


Anamnesis

by CarmineLoom



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/F, Fan Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), I've never written a straight protagonist I wont start now, Illustrated, Lesbian Character, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Not my usual writing style, POV Alternating, POV Original Female Character, Present Tense, Sorry Not Sorry, Unresolved Romantic Tension, because I hate myself, kinda canon verse, oh boy here we go - Freeform, some pretty strange talents but stick with us here, this has been in production since 2016 wtf, this is super gay btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-04-14 21:28:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14144949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmineLoom/pseuds/CarmineLoom
Summary: Hope's Peak Academy, a prestigious school and talent hivemind. To be invited to such a place is an honour, one that grants those whom graduate a future no other can beat.Atsuko just wants to know when everything went to shit.





	1. Prologue: Awake in a Strange Place

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! so yep, this is an original killing game (sorry lol) that's been in the works since 2016. WHICH MEANS that all characters, including talents and designs, as well as plot points (murders, executions, etc) in this story, were made before V3 released anything and that's super important because as soon as I saw a specific design and talent, I was like "oh no". This is also super gay because I'm super gay, so keep that in mind.
> 
> also please forgive my inconsistent art style, I'm an okay artist at best.
> 
> also also, I apologise for all the description of characters, I wasn't originally going to draw them out so I explain in a ton of detail what they look like, which is actually a pet peeve of mine, so I guess I'm the true Hypocrite.
> 
> Big thanks for my cowriter (who doesn't have an account)!
> 
> anyway enjoy!

So this is Hope’s Peak Academy, huh? The girl stood in front the large, cast iron gates of the academy. Her eyes scanned upwards, the looming academy a dark shadow that engulfed her static form. It was intimidating, she wasn’t going to lie. Three years with the best of the best, apparently. She clenched her invitation tightly in her fist, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

Her appearance, to say the least, was fairly abnormal. Her hair, naturally, was a faded orange, spanning to end just at the middle of her back, her bangs framing her face and stopping short of her shoulders. She had dressed herself in what was a combination of her old uniform and her former work uniform: short sleeve shirt a pale green, a deep black bow acting as her tie. Her dull black skirt rested comfortably against her lower thighs. She had clumsily painted her nails in dark pink nail polish, to which she had taken the time to match the colour to her, admirably ugly, yellow and pink shoes. Wrapped around her right wrist was a black and white bead bracelet, one she had constructed for herself in a moment of particular boredom.

Her most unusual feature, she had been told by many, was her eyes. They were rather large, lined with thick lashes, and almost uncomfortably open, as though her stare could pierce the armor of one’s soul and lay bare all their most hidden secrets. Her eyes were a shockingly bright orange, pupils surrounded by a ring of burnt amber that flared in four directions to the edges of her iris, much like a crosshair. But her appearance was only a digression from her true abnormality.

Hope’s Peak Academy. As previously mentioned, this place would be her school for the next three years, encapsulating the last moments of her teenage life. The school itself was incredibly well known, it being stated that any of those who graduated were set for life. Of course, as she had come to find out, all students who attended met a set of criteria. Just as stated in her invitation, they must be the best in their chosen area. As such, the students of Hope’s Peak were a major topic for nosey online forums. The girl hadn’t bothered with these forums, the whole practice inciting a nauseating feeling of voyeurism. She couldn’t even imagine what was being said about her, and finding out would either inflate her ego or lead to self-depreciation, both of which she did not need.

The girl’s name was Motome Atsuko and she had been invited to Hope’s Peak Academy under the title of Ultimate Barista.

After being stood at the gates for far too long, Motome finally shifted her feet into the school grounds. She wasn’t early by any means, and if she dallied anymore, she would be late for the entrance ceremony. She needed to find the main hall.

The little introduction package that had come with her letter informed her to be at the main hall by 8:00 a.m., so she could be properly introduced into her new life. The package had also informed her, that due to her living so far away, they would provide her with a dorm on the school's grounds. This she had vehemently denied, even if it took her an achingly long train ride. Sure, it would be a pain, but she couldn’t just up and ignore all her responsibilities for some overly-prestigious high school.

Honestly, now that she really thought about it, she wasn’t completely sure why she had accepted Hope’s Peak’s invitation. It may have seemed silly to a lot of others, but she didn’t really care about many of the attributions that came with being associated with the academy. She guessed, to her, it didn’t feel fair, and she had spend a majority of her life internally scoffing at all the overly-prettied up ladies and staunch-suited gentlemen who frequented her cafe.

So… why had she agreed to attend the academy? But that’s something that she wouldn’t be able to answer. Because she didn’t understand either.

And then, before she could think any further, her vision blanked white.

 

 

**Prologue: Awake in a Strange Place**

 

 

It’s pitch black. There’s an inky weight laid thick across Atsuko’s shoulders. No matter how much she tries, the weight just won’t leave her.

It’s dark.

It’s so damn dark.

Somewhere, the faintest murmur of voices break like little pebbles across the stagnant water of the blackness. Alertness returns to her slowly. She can feel coldness seep into her skin, and the hard ground becomes more apparent. The murmurs become louder, gaining clarity as a multitude of voices start to grate on her ears. Light slowly seeps into the threads of her vision. “What… The hell?” Her voice is a soft rasp catching itself on her own breath.

She’s in a long, narrow hallway. The voices she hears echo down it, but the owners are nowhere to be seen. There’s a dull ache in her back, pain flaring as she shifts to push herself from the floor. It catches her off balance, her hand steadying against the concrete wall.

A striking sting causes her to withdraw her hand, an involuntary hiss escaping her. It's not caused by anything sharp or pointy, the pain a result similar to grabbing ice with her bare hands. The temperature in the hallway is almost icy, Atsuko’s breath just barely hanging visible in the air. For a second she almost loses her composure, the sudden strangeness of her situation invading her brain. “Where the fuck- shit-oh shit. Oh fuck this. Breathe Atsuko-breath. Just think. And relax.”

Momentarily, she's able to overcome the creeping panic and allows herself to quickly comprehend her situation. The fact that she's speaking way too loudly makes her whisper her next words. “I was… at the entrance of Hope’s Peak, and now, I’m not- Which is cool, it’s fine, no big deal.” As if. Her words sound false to her own ears, no amount of projected bravado being enough to truly fool oneself. Even if she can't really believe herself, it's enough to pretend her words are working.

The voices catch her ears again, this time just a little closer, and she can almost hear what’s being said. It’s a cacophony of sounds, all seemingly as confused and panicked as she feels. They drift further suddenly, and Atsuko, to her best groggy ability, tries to stumble in the direction they had come from. There's no way she's going to stay alone in this place.

The hallway isn’t nearly as long as she feared, and rather quickly she finds herself at a large door. With much effort, Atsuko pushes the door open. As she emerges into a dimly lit room, she’s greeted by a large group of people. Some look caught off-guard by her sudden appearance through the door, others somewhat interested, and a few not bothering to even turn and look at her, completely indifferent. She flounders for a few seconds, finding her footing in this new environment, and at least tries to be casual. “Uh… ‘Sup.”

The resounding silence that greets her is less than welcoming. She shifts uncomfortably, and all the eyes on her shift back to their conversations. Not really sure what to do, Atsuko allows herself to relax somewhat, and take in the sounds around her. She takes in the room. There’s about - no exactly - fourteen people, excluding herself, milling about the room. Some are engaged in conversation, while others stand alone. The room isn’t much in the way of aesthetics, barren grey concrete walls, with a cracked concrete floor. There are no windows in the room, and only one other door. Mounted to the wall across from where she stands is a large display screen, currently off and seemingly without a power-source.

First, her eyes take in two people - a boy and a girl, she assumes - grim faced and in a deep conversation. Atsuko can hear the soft, tense voice of the boy, “This situation is a solid negative.”

The girl replies in a stern, yet almost flippant tone. “It is quite frankly a baffling scenario, I must agree.”

Atsuko almost approaches them, but she can't make herself move, the stuffy atmosphere the two emit unwelcoming.

Next her eyes shift to a group of three. A blond boy has sat himself close to another boy nervously tugging at what looks like an apron between his teeth. A girl leans against the wall near them, a look of vague disinterest across her face. The blonde boy’s voice is boisterously loud, and Motome doesn’t even need to strain her ears to hear him. “Hey lil’ dude, it’s gonna be all good, trust me.”

The other boy doesn't answer, just continues to pull uncertain at his apron. The blond boy softens his voice into a coo Atsuko has used before on her younger brothers and- fuck, this would be an interesting event to explain to them.

“C’mon, you’ll ruin that apron. It’s not food lil’ dude.”

“Coward.” The scowling girl pitches in, her voice a half-scoff brimming with derision. The blonde boy looks up at her, a flash of disbelief in his expression. He opens his mouth, but is stopped as the silent boy mumbles around the fabric in his mouth.

“…’m sorry…”

The blond boy schools his expression, refocusing his attention into calming the boy. “Hey, we’re all feeling nervous, lil’ dude.”

It's relieving, Atsuko thinks, to not be the only one close to panicking. She doesn't approach this group either, the other girl's attitude a little too... unsettling? Rough? She's trying to avoid ‘bitchy’ but it's such a good descriptor that Atsuko shouldn’t use for strangers but really, really wants to.

A cheery voice pulls Atsuko from her momentary internal strife, and two girls are engaged in what looks like a surprisingly upbeat conversation. The girl talking either isn't aware or doesn't care about how loud her voice is getting. “-and liiiike, I just- like wooooosh, and then I was here! Isn’t that sooooo strange?”

“Yes, so very strange indeed!” The other girl is equally as loud, and just as carefree in her response. The blatant lack of apprehension in their conversation irritates Atsuko, but a small part of her appreciates the carefree atmosphere the two emit.

It's annoying how readily Atsuko allows herself to become submerged in the conversations and chattering voices - “this is kinda weird huh?” - of the people around her. She keeps waiting for someone to approach her, to explain - “I suppose”- just what the hell's going on, but no one - “you're probably pretty nervous too”- does, and it's so incredibly jarring, to be acknowledged but ignored like this. Atsuko spares a glance at the two people whose voices have been invading her thoughts. The one in the hoodie remains silent.

“Whoops, sorry. Didn’t mean to put words in your mouth.”

“It’s fine.”

As they say those words, the person in the hoodie accidentally makes eye contact with Atsuko. For a maddening second, Atsuko feels relief. Someone's actually noticing her, which means they'll help her, explain to her exactly what’s happening, because even knowing just a little is enough.

The eye contact ends.

Atsuko feels the atmosphere closing in around her. She grips her arms around her body, trying to dissuade the anxiety welling inside her. They noticed her, and if Atsuko wasn’t a breath away from a breakdown then maybe she would've taken the initiative herself but she can't and why is no one even looking? The edges of her vision start to dull, and Atsuko can feel further panic starting to invade her senses. Suddenly, she wants to break something, grab the closest person and scream, to slam her fist into the ground until it's raw and bleeding. But she can't, she won't, no matter how desperate she is for something to ground her.

The strength in her legs falter, but before she can collapse - a pair of gentle hands clasp her shoulders. They're soft, yet there is a subtle toughness, a strength, that make the hands a welcome intrusion into Atsuko’s worked up state. They guide Atsuko back to reality, and she takes a stuttering deep breath as the other talks.

“It’s alright. This situation is very nerve wracking, like the last few seconds before the curtains rise on an opening night, so all that matters is the air in your lungs and the steady beat of your heart. Feel calm, and the stress will disappear- poof! Submerged by the applause of the audience.” The voice, while quite obviously concerned, is chirpy and rather lighthearted. It's feminine enough that Atsuko can safely assume the person is female without removing her eyes from the floor.

“Ah, I’m- I’m good now, thanks. I’m just kinda - disoriented.” Atsuko inhales deeply, allowing the stiff air of the room to insulate her lungs, and pries her gaze from the grey floor.

The girl isn't at all bothered by Atsuko’s previous lack of eye contact, enthusiastically waving off Atsuko’s frazzled explanation with a quick flick of her right wrist. Her fingers look almost elegant as they naturally curl. “As I said, it’s fine! I understand how scary this all must seem. Honestly, I’m frightened myself, but it’s best to ignore that feeling for now.”

Atsuko can't comment on whether something like that was the ‘best’ thing to do, but ignoring her own feelings seems like a pretty good deal for the current situation. “If you’re feeling well now, we should introduce ourselves. I’m **Takahashi Wakana** , it’s so very nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. Uh, I’m Motome Atsuko.”

“Hmm… Mmmm…” The girl - Takahashi, has her eyes closed contently, both hands posed in the air and swaying to an unseen melody. The noise she lets out from her mouth sounds like hummed nonsense. Atsuko realises with a start that said nonsense is really her own name, altered and slightly musical. “Mmmotommmme Aaaatssssukooooo. It has a nice movement to it.”

“...’Kay.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry! That must seem so strange. I’m an **orchestral conductor -**  I’m all about the movement of sound.” Ah, so that explains the hand gestures and her melodic nature.

“Nah it’s fine. I’m a barista, I make coffee and all that jazz.”

Takahashi's eyes light up brighter. “A coffee maestro! I quite like coffee, although I do prefer it strong, con forza! Oh! And usually I have no caffeine; it’s not so good trying to conduct with the jitters. We don’t want the accelerandos to get out of hand, I mean I love a good presto agitato but not in the middle of a slow movement. The orchestra would murder me - and the audience might too.”

Atsuko stops fully processing Takahashi's words somewhere in the middle of her small speech, but she does her best to answer the excitable girl. “Yeah, that seems pretty bad. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Takahashi waves her hands in a short, jilting manner. “Oh, no, no. I’m not conducting anything at the moment, so caffeine is fine, no problem. And it is useful when I’m up late score-marking, after all.”

“Cool, I guess.” Internally, Atsuko cringes, her own sudden lack of sociability reminding her exactly why she prefers the pitched hissing of coffee machines to the gentle flux of human conversation.

Takahashi, thankfully, seems unbothered by Atsuko's half-assed response. “Mmmmm, well Motome, I feel we are in perfect harmony, but there’s more of the audience left to greet, so would you like to be my accompanist?” Takahashi smiles up lightly at her. “I would feel terrible if you became overwhelmed again, so do you want to meet everyone else with me? I’ve already introduced myself to everyone, but I don’t mind going around with you!” Her offer, while surprising, is definitely one Atsuko cannot ignore.

“Yeah, if it’s alright, I think being with someone’s better.” With a clap of her hands, Takahashi exclaims, “Wonderful! Come on then, who should we talk to first?”

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

Atsuko startles as a quiet sound and brief vibration that emits from her shirt pocket. Takahashi laughs, before brandishing a small rectangle from her own dress pocket. “That would be this! It's like, a uh, an ID? But with a screen, so don't swipe it! We all have one, it's very basic though.”

Atsuko quickly looks through the ID. Takahashi is right, it's pretty basic, much less useful than a tablet or a touch phone. It displays her name at the top left corner of the screen, but no time or date. There is a little battery icon, fully charged it looks like, so Atsuko guesses she has that responsibility now to remember.

There are four apps that Atsuko switches through: A note app that looks lifted from something official, an app labelled “treats” (currently empty), a map (which doesn't open), and a list of fifteen icons, only two of which are accessible. Atsuko clicks on the first icon - a poor rendition of what must be her own face.

**|| _Ultimate Barista_**

**Motome Atsuko 元目 敦子**

**Height:** 182 cm (5’9”)  
**Weight:** 80 kg  
**Birthday:** 1st October  
**Likes:** Tips, hot drinks  
**Dislikes:** Messy places, rude customers, early mornings  
**||**

Huh, well, that certainly was all correct. Really, really creepy, but correct. Casting a glance at Takahashi, Atsuko scrolls to the next available icon.

**|| _Ultimate Orchestral Conductor_**

**Takahashi Wakana 高橋 和奏**

**Height:** 163 cm (5’3”)  
**Weight:** 66 kg  
**Birthday:** 1st September  
**Likes** : Many types of music, soft foods  
**Dislikes** : Fried foods, riddles  
**||**

Takahashi smiles. “All correct. I assume it is the same for you? A little, unpleasant, no?"

Atsuko takes a moment to take in the girl- Takahashi- who is now her companion. She is quite a bit shorter than Atsuko, and Atsuko’s neck aches faintly from looking down at her. Takahashi’s hair is a soft blonde, cut so that it brushes against the tops of her shoulders. Her fringe is kept from her eyes by a set of hairclips, crafted to resemble thick, black music notes. Takahashi’s eyes are a comforting warmth, betraying a deep and endless kindness, her smile the perfect matching compliment.

Her attire is simple: a collared beige dress, stopping just above her knees. The dress has a black trim that runs along the hem of the dress, as well as along her collar and her sleeves. Little white music notes line the trim, as though dancing through an eclipsed night-sky. There is a ribbon around her collar, with a symbol that Atsuko assumes must belong to whichever school Takahashi must have previously attended before Hope’s Peak accepted her. The ribbon is secured by a brooch, which holds a small, but obviously precious, green stone. Her socks match her dress, and her shoes look sturdy but comfortable.

“Yeah.” Atsuko, done with admiring the appearance of her new friend, turns to look at the group of students. That’s what they must be, considering Takahashi had spoken of her ultimate ability so casually. All these people must be her fellow classmates, to join her for the next three years at Hope’s Peak Academy.

Assured by this commonality, Atsuko picks out the first person she wants to talk to. The first person she picks is a boy? Girl? She actually isn’t sure. Atsuko recognises them as one of the people whose conversation she had overheard. The thick, grey hoodie they have obscures any distinct figure, as do the pair of black shorts. Atsuko approaches them, Takahashi following behind. The person sees Atsuko as she approaches and greets them first. “Takahashi, hello.”

“Hello again!”

The person’s voice is indistinct, completely unidentifiable as either male or female. They turn their attention onto Atsuko, and gives a terse smile. “...Akiyama.”

“Motome Atsuko. Uh, Barista.”

The person laughs sheepishly, so obviously forced that Atsuko winces internally. “ **Akiyama Ren. Crossdresser**.”

“Sorry, what?”

At her confusion, Takahashi jumps in, eager to extrapolate on her companion’s talent. “Akiyama is the Ultimate Crossdresser-”

And is interrupted unapologetically. “Hope’s Peak’s talent.”

“I… see.” For a second, Atsuko allows the curiosity worming in her to release. “Hey so, actually, what-”

Ever so slightly, Akiyama tenses, their hands clenching in the pocket of their hoodie. Takahashi, attuned to the subtlety of most things, intercepts Atsuko's question. “-Motome, it might be rude to ask about others affairs, no?”

Atsuko mulls over Takahashi's words. ” ...Yeah, you’re right.” Akiyama looks at her, the barely contained apprehension even more palpable now that Atsuko truly looks. “Never mind. Dumb question, doesn't matter.” Atsuko decides it's best not to ask. With her dismissal, Akiyama’s hands unfurl, transferring to the pockets of their shorts instead. Akiyama’s posture relaxes, a slouch overtaking them.

Atsuko looks over Akiyama once more, and is quietly captivated by their eyes. Framed by long eyelashes, their eyes are a deep blue, close in resemblance to the colour of the sky just after the last faded light of the sunset. They have unruly dark brown hair, cut so that it curls along the back of their neck. Akiyama is also short, or well, more average in height, but Atsuko still has to bend her neck slightly to acknowledge them. Atsuko notices then that Akiyama is wearing a pair of slippers instead of shoes, coloured a soft pink, with pastel blue bows and trim. Akiyama notices her gaze, semi-hidden amusement present across their face.

“Like them?”

“Yeah. Nice colours.”

“It’s a mockery.”

Atsuko raises an eyebrow at that. “Of what?”

The look on Akiyama’s face is hard to decipher, but it's not overly unpleasant. It's almost like Akiyama is as confused by their own words as Atsuko is. “Who knows?”

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**|| _Ultimate Crossdresser_**

**Akiyama Ren 秋山 恋**

**Height:** 170 cm (5’5”)  
**Weight:** 72 kg  
**Birthday:** 3rd March  
**Likes:** Dresses and suits, warm showers, comfy stuff  
**Dislikes:** Questions, cold places  
**||**

Atsuko, although wanting to talk a little more with Akiyama, can see that Akiyama is becoming mildly disinterested with the conversation, and she and Takahashi quickly excuse themselves.

The next person Atsuko approaches is a very short girl, and she recognises her as the girl Takahashi was conversing with when Atsuko had first entered. She greets Takahashi enthusiastically, her hands waving with a vigour Atsuko has only seen from small children. “Wawa! Hey! Hey! It’s you!”

Takahashi points at herself with an extravagant flourish. “It’s me!”

The girl's attention immediately shifts from Takahashi, Atsuko catching her large eyes. Her head tilts slightly as she regards Atsuko, before she smiles wide. She keeps one hand clutching the strap of the bag on her shoulder, the other waving with more enthusiasm than Atsuko deems necessary. “Aaaaand, oh? Hey, hello, hi!!”

“Hey.” In contrast to the girl's enthusiastic waving, Atsuko greets her with a quick lift of the hand.

“I’m **Ito Hiroko** , the Ultimate **Collector**! You can call me Hiroko though!”

“Motome Atsuko, barista.”

“Cool, Cool! Wow! You’re really taaaall Mototo! Like a giant!”

“Yeah, well… It’s just genetics.” Atsuko is slightly taken aback by the sudden nickname, but either Ito doesn't notice or doesn't care, as she continues on without hesitation.

“Ah! You’re really pretty too! If you were a doll you’d be the prize of my collection!”

“Thanks, I think?”

“Welcome!” Ito rocks back on the heels of her feet, a goofy grin plastering itself onto her face. She winks. “Speaking of welcome, you always are, Mototo! I wanna hang out with you more!”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” There's a brief pause in the conversation, and Atsuko quietly considers how she should feel about Ito. She's not, immediately off-put, but a small part of her is reminded of the awkward encounters she's had with guys who visit her café, all compliments and talk sweeter than the faux sugar they add to their drinks.

Takahashi laughs lightly, gently reaching up to place her hand on Atsuko’s shoulder. ”Haha, Hiroko really likes you! She’s the Ultimate Collector, you know, her collections are not only abundant, but thriving in quality. From the smallest pebbles to the largest statues, Hiroko has made world-wide records and holds an immense notoriety within collector groups all over the country. Plus, she’s as cute as the buttons she collects.”

Ito turns her attention back to Takahashi at the compliment. “Aaaw, Wawa.”

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**|| _Ultimate Collector_**

**Ito Hiroko 伊藤 裕子**

 

**Height** :157 cm (5’1”)  
**Weight** : 55 kg  
**Birthday:** 22nd June  
**Likes:** Small stuff, shiny stuff, lots of stuff  
**Dislikes** : Heavy things, things that can rot **  
||**

Ito, much like Takahashi had said, is quite cute. She has short, pale brown hair, with thin bangs that frame her freckled face. Her eyes, large and innocent, are a deep coalesced mess of purples. Her neck is covered by what Atsuko assumes is a black turtleneck, which has been covered by Ito’s long-sleeve, aged green shirt, a messy bow tied about the collar. Ito’s white pants are slightly puffed where they stop above the knees. To add to her collector look, she has two large leather-strap bags slung on each shoulder.

After concluding the conversation, Atsuko decides to speak to a boy hovering near them. If he was trying to be inconspicuous, his searingly pink sweater was a harsh indicator in visibility. Takahashi notices the boy too, reaching out toward Atsuko’s arm. “Oh, Motome wait-”

But Atsuko’s just a little too quick for Takahashi’s grasp, and calls out to the boy. “Hey.”

The boy doesn't quite startle as much as he tries to pretend to, his fingers playing with the sleeve of his sweater. “Hi.”

There is a long silence which neither Atsuko or the boy fills, and Atsuko can swear she hears Takahashi sigh softly behind her. In the silence, Atsuko looks over the boy. He, similar to Takahashi, has blond hair, but it’s a much warmer tone. His eyes, also like Takahashi, are brown, but they hold none of the comfortable hospitality. His sweater bears a pin in the shape of a school emblem, but Atsuko can’t place the school. His button up shirt is a faded brown, with large, pearl white buttons that disappear behind the neckline of his sweater. He’s wearing a pair of dark brown slacks that reach to the tops of his shoes. He’s actually a little shorter than Takahashi, but not by much. Atsuko finally decides to break the silence.

“I’m Motome Atsuko, barista. You?”

“ **Yonamine Michi**.”

Atsuko waits, but he doesn't say anything else.

His silence is a clear indicator that he’s waiting for Atsuko to continue the conversation, but the rigidity in his stance makes Atsuko a little apprehensive about her line of questioning. “What’s your talent?”

Yonamine’s fingers clench at the fabric of his sleeve, his gaze shifting to the ceiling. “Uh…… The letter in my pocket says, it says ‘ **Hypocrite** ’.”

“That’s a talent?”

Her remark is mostly instinctive, the sheer absurdity of his talent overriding any courtesy she can give. Yonamine flinches, his hands dropping into fists by his sides. “It just is okay! Geez…”

Atsuko’s mouth can't seem to filter itself. “But fucking, how?”

Yonamine scowls, broken only by the quivering uncertainty in his eyes. “Does it matter? I… look, leave me alone.”

“Yeah, I’ll go.”

Atsuko watches as Yonamine, a sour expression on his face, walks over to Ito. The girl promptly engages him in a very enthusiastic conversation, and Atsuko feels relief when she sees the tension drain slightly from Yonamine’s shoulders. It was pretty much her fault for making him so uncomfortable.

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**||** _Ultimate Hypocrite_  
  
**Yonamine Michi** 與那嶺 道

**__ **

**Height** : 162 cm (5’3”)  
**Weight:** 57 kg  
**Birthday** : 3rd August  
**Likes** : Bottled water, bubble wrap  
**Dislikes** : Roller coasters, card tricks  
**||**

Takahashi taps against Atsuko’s shoulder, a strange, uncomfortable smile on her face. “Yes, I was going to say, Yonamine isn’t quite so hospitable at the moment. I would garner he is perhaps not too pleased about something, so…”

Atsuko doesn't need to hear the rest. “Yeah, I’ll just leave him alone.”

Next is the silent boy Atsuko had seen curled on the floor. As she had guessed, he is wearing a black apron, but the majority of the material is scrunched between his trembling hands. Takahashi spots her line of sight. Having finally clued in to just how lackluster Atsuko's tact really is, she whispers. Or, well, tries to whisper. “Oh! Motome, try not to be invasive, he is radiating timidity right now.”

Atsuko brushes off her concern, seemingly forgetting her previous attempt at conversation rather readily. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

Much to her surprise, however, when she approaches the boy, he greets her first. “Hello.” His greeting is mumbled and almost incoherent, his hands twisting deeper into his apron.

“Hey, speak up some.”

The boy starts, and tries to speak louder. "No, it’s-” At his very first verbal stumble, his voice shrinks rapidly. “It’s okay. I’m- I’m always speaking, too quietly.”

“Clearly.”

Her words are obviously the wrong ones, because the boy flushes in shame, his mouth pulling into a thin line. “‘m sorry…”

Ah, shit. “No, I'm sorry. I’m Motome Atsuko, ultimate barista.”

“Shiori, **Shiori Yuuma**... I’m a, I'm a **baker**.”

“Well, I hope we can get along.” It's a very business oriented line, but it's the best Atsuko can come up with.

“...Yeah, me too.” Shiori’s smile is wobbly, but incredibly earnest, his fingers releasing his apron to instead play with his shirt collar. Takahashi gives Atsuko a subtle thumbs up, and launches into her excited babble.

“Shiori Yuuma, as he so humbly said, is the Ultimate Baker. He’s won numerous baking competitions, owns a small but lucrative bakery that has brought about raving reviews from even foreign food critics, and makes all the baked goods he sells himself, from a mini-tart for a cat to a 5-metre cake for the wedding of foreign royalty! That's right, this shy cutie's actually impeccably talented!”

“Holy shit.” A five-metre cake is damn impressive.

Shiori’s nods, with remarkable similarity to a bobblehead. “Ah yeah, yeah. But that was only, only once. You shouldn’t, shouldn’t feed a cat sweet things.”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing there.”

Immediately Shiori’s thin confidence snaps, his hand tangling once again into his apron. “‘m sorry.”

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**||** **_Ultimate Baker  
_**  
**Shiori Yuuma** 詩織 優真

 

**Height:** 172 cm (5’6”)  
**Weight:** 70 kg  
**Birthday:** 11th May  
**Likes:** Family, rainy weather  
**Dislikes:** Swimming, neon lights  
**||**

Shiori, despite his timidity, is taller than the previous people Atsuko had been introduced to, but is still shorter than Atsuko. His black hair is teetering on the line between messy and neat, and curls behind his ears to rest along his neck. His eyes are a nice green around the edges of his irises, but become almost muddied the closer the colour curls to his pupil. Atsuko finds that she has a hard time making eye contact with him, but that seems to suit Shiori, as he is equally unwilling to meet Atsuko’s eyes.

Under his black apron, he wears a pale peach coloured long-sleeve button-up. His collar is buttoned up to the top, hiding a majority of his neck, but Atsuko can almost see something on the skin hidden partially by Shiori’s collar.

After a quick but reassuring smile at Shiori, Atsuko not so much chooses who she greets next, as they choose her.

“HELLO!”

“Woah! Hey.”

The girl is suddenly incredibly close, her words not only loud, but quick, a frantic race to escape her mouth. “I’M **GAE** **SACHIKI** **ULTIMATE** **LUCKY** **STUDENT** IT’SNICETOMEETYOU!”

“Motome Atsuko, Ultimate Barista. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Gae's inherent energy is affecting Atsuko, her own nervousness skyrocketing. Gae sticks her hand out, and Atsuko takes it. Gae’s hands are sweaty, her trembling reminiscent of the rabbit Atsuko had to care for in elementary school.

“YES!”

Atsuko decides to try and pull out her Big Sister card, softening her voice as best she can. “Hey, it’s okay. You can calm down.”

It does absolutely nothing. “YES!”

“...right.” She's not even sure why she attempted that; it never works for her brothers either.

Atsuko looks down at the shaking girl before her. She’s wearing a typical school uniform, a light blue short-sleeve button up with socks that match, a dark navy skirt, and well-polished black leather shoes. Her hair is a dark amber, strung into two ponytails secured with thin black ribbons. There’s a messy cowlick that sits stubborn at the top of her head. Her uneven fringe allows unobstructed access to her eyes. Gae has nice eyes, Atsuko decides. Unlike Gae’s nervous attitude, they are a calming grey, sleek as a silver blade.

Atsuko gently pulls her hand from the handshake Gae seems to have forgotten. Immediately, Gae’s face illuminates in a blush, any thoughts slamming to a stop as she babbles unintelligibly. Atsuko tries her best to rectify the situation, but it seems Gae’s nervousness has gotten the best of her.

Atsuko tries once again to calm the girl ”Hey,” and Gae is gone.

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**||** **_Ultimate Lucky Student  
_**  
**Gae Sachiki** 替 幸希

**Height:** 165 cm (5’4”)  
**Weight:** 64 kg  
**Birthday:** 27th December  
**Likes:** Soft-serve ice cream, extra-extra supreme spicy curry  
**Dislikes:** Scary movies, baked fish  
**||**

As Atsuko watches Gae’s quick escape, resulting in Gae tripping over her feet several times, with an almost successful attempt to slam face first into a wall, she turns to Takahashi. “Hey Takahashi-”

“Haha, want me to explain?”

“Yeah.”

“Gae is an Ultimate Lucky Student. You’re aware of them right?”

Atsuko searches through her memory. She thinks she vaguely recalls her classmates gossiping about it. “Like the raffle thing?”

Takahashi claps her hands together. “Yep!”

Atsuko considers this for a moment, and she thinks that maybe Gae’s the type that's easily intimidated. “So she’s just a regular student? No wonder she seemed so nervous. I can’t imagine.”

Takashi looks curious. “...Motome you were overcome with nervousness earlier, were you not?” Her words are blunt, not judgmental.

Atsuko grumbles, a faint blush surfacing, her fingers thumbing along the smooth beads of her bracelet. “Yeah, but that’s different. Gae’s like, totally out of her element. Ultimates are pretty much celebrities to regular students.”

Takahashi tuts, her index finger waving steadily back and forth. “But Gae is no longer a regular student, she’s an ultimate student, just like the rest of us.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It's not like I'm shitting on her, I've just heard plenty of students gushing over Ultimates. I’m mean, she’s probably overwhelmed.” Her words are true, but there's a slight indignation that Takahashi would think Atsuko thought like that.

“Oh yes, absolutely.”

The next student Atsuko chooses because she’s had enough of the cramp in her neck. The boy is not too much taller than Atsuko, and that’s enough for her to find a quick respite from looking down. They approach him, and the boy gives them an easy smile. Atsuko realises he was the boy who had been talking to Akiyama.

He raises his hand in a light greeting. As he greets them, Atsuko takes in his appearance. He’s not bad to look at, and Atsuko can see that he’s probably pretty popular among his female classmates. His warm brown hair is comfortably tousled and fluffy-looking. It falls just behind his ears, which are lined with metallic black earrings. His eyes are a friendly tawny-brown that match his smile. He’s wearing an off-white button-up with the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. Over his shirt, he has a clean white vest secured with clunky black buttons, and bears the emblem of a school on the vest pocket. His tie is a deep velvet blue that matches his jeans. The boy greets them with an easy wave.

“Hey Takahashi. How’ve you been?”

“The exact same as when we last talked. Have you greeted everyone yet?”

His hand lands to cup the back of his neck as he sheepishly laughs. “Haha, nah, not yet. There’s just so many.”

He turns his attention to Atsuko, offering his hand in greeting. Atsuko takes it, and notes his hand’s rather calloused.

“Hey, nice to meet’cha. I’m **Hiraku** **Kyou** , I hope we can get along.”

“Motome Atsuko. Barista.”

Hiraku laughs suddenly, and rubs the back of his neck. “…Hahaha, sorry.”

“What?”  
  
“I forgot to mention my talent.” 

Atsuko waves it off. “It’s fine.”

“Ahhh, it is kinda embarrassing though, saying it out loud.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“You sure, it’s pretty silly. I’m the **Ultimate** **Best** **Friend**.”

Atsuko can't stop herself, a choked laugh pushing from her throat.

“See, I told you.”

“Shit- I mean-”

Hiraku mimics her earlier gesture, a forgiving grin across his face. “Nah, I get you. My mum started laughing too when she saw the letter.”

“But to get a talent like that, it must mean you’re a pretty great guy.”

Takahashi takes this opportunity to pop herself back into the conversation. Hiraku sends her an apologetic glance as he realises she was being excluded, but Takahashi is clearly unbothered. “Isn’t he? Hiraku has the ability to get along amicably with anyone and everyone he chooses! He’s able to bring together those who resent each other and have them resolve their differences with no chance of violence from either party! Surely you must have heard of the incident in which an unnamed middle school student singlehandedly resolved the bloody conflict between those two street gangs hanging around Ikebukuro!”

“Holy shit, that was you? You're fucking awesome.”

Hiraku’s smile changes slightly, and the laugh he lets out seems strange to Atsuko. With his right hand he twirls his tie between his fingers, while his left hand fiddles with his earrings. “Haha, I wouldn’t know about that, I just… I guess I do have a lot of good friends. “Best” though… I only have one of those.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… Actually- woah, hang on.” Hiraku's eyes, which have been slowly glazing over, suddenly snap into attention as his gaze fixates on something past Atsuko's shoulder.  
  
“Hiraku?”  
  
“Sorry, I have to- Uh, sorry, speak to you later?” A grin has replaced his strange smile, his eyes brightening. It’s apparent his words are only an afterthought. Atsuko just feels her confusion worsen. 

“What-”  
  
“Hey! Over here!”

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**||** **_Ultimate Best Friend_    
**  
**Hiraku Kyou** 拓 協

****

**Height:** 184 cm (6’0”)  
**Weight:** 81 kg  
**Birthday:** 11th May  
**Likes:** Happy thoughts, helping out, shounen anime  
**Dislikes:** Arguments, overfamiliarity  
**||**

Atsuko looks over at Takahashi, bewildered. “What was that?”

Takahashi just shrugs.

With that unusual departure, Atsuko moves onto her next target. Okay, fuck, this guy is actually taller than Atsuko by a significant margin. Like Hiraku, he greets them with a grin. It’s large and welcoming, betraying significant energy behind it. Atsuko recognises him as the boy who had been comforting Shiori.

“Yo! Takahashi!”

“Hello! This is-”

Takahashi’s attempted introduction is cut off by the boy's own realisation. His ever present grin seems to get larger and friendlier as he greets her. “Oh! Yo! Hello Miss, name’s **Hisakawa** **Yuudai** , I’m the **Ultimate** **Hero**!”

“Motome Atsuko, Ultimate Barista, nice to meet you.”

“Yeah! You too!”

Takahashi does her best to match Hisakawa’s grin as she starts to explain, but Atsuko has a distinct feeling that his smile is uniquely his own, that even a photograph would be a lackluster rendition. “Hisakawa, as the Ultimate Hero, has dedicated almost every waking moment to helping the people of Japan and his local community! He visits sick children in hospitals, looks after the elderly, aids the police, relief workers and local animal shelters in their work, all over the country. He’s put in more hours of community service than you could ever believe.”

Atsuko looks over Hisakawa. There aren’t many times where Atsuko has to crane her neck to meet another’s eyes, but this is one of those times. His eyes, framed by his short-cropped, messy blond hair, are thin, the colour a warm and welcoming liquidised amber, which compliments his easy and carefree smile. On his right cheek is a thick bandage, but Atsuko doubts there’s actually a wound under it. He has rather broad shoulders, but his posture is relaxed and welcoming. His short sleeved shirt is a vibrant blue, and around his neck is a thin chain necklace that sits low on his chest. The chain holds a deep purple gem in place. His dark navy shorts stop above the knee, and his black belt is quite obviously too large, as the ends hang at his waist. He wears a pair of black gloves that cuff at his wrists.

“Y’know, I love meeting new people.”

Hisakawa’s sudden words momentarily take Atsuko off guard, and she attempts to recover quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! ‘cause if I know lotsa people, there’s more I can help.”

Atsuko smiles, although she must admit it's more bemused than anything else. “How noble.”

Hisakawa places both hands on his hips, his chest puffing out like a proud bird. “Not really noble, but tons of guys call me ‘heroic’, which I guess fits, huh!”

“Your talent? Yeah.”

Hisakawa considers her for a moment, as he swings his arms into a position imitating one of those heroes from a popular kids show. He smiles at her, a little more subdued but just as uniquely him as before. “If you’re ever in danger, just shout “HELP!”, and I’ll be there, yeah? But, really, ya don’t seem like someone who’ll need me.”

“I don't know about danger, but okay.”

“Yeah, well, ya never know! ‘Scuse me, but I needa introduce myself to some’a the smaller ones.”

Atsuko feels somewhat flattered, and decides that certainly, there is something about Hisakawa that can be seen as heroic.

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**||** **_Ultimate Hero_ **

**Hisakawa Yuudai 久川 雄大**

**Height:** 190 cm (6’2”)  
**Weight:** 86 kg  
**Birthday:** 28th August  
**Likes:** Comic books, loud music, shounen manga  
**Dislikes:** Hurting people, arguing  
**||**

She next chooses to talk to a tall girl standing still in the corner of the room. She’s wearing what looks like pale blue hospital scrubs, but slightly modified, and over her mouth is a pristine white medical mask. The girl notices their approach and nods to them. “Hello again Takahashi. Hello.”

Atsuko returns her nod. “Hi.”

The girl shakes Atsuko’s hand as she greets her. Her hands are covered by equally pristine white medical gloves that sit just past her elbow. The girl’s grip is firm and despite the glove, is warm. Atsuko almost doesn’t want to let the handshake end, already mourning the loss of the girl’s warmth. It's a much needed contrast to the chilled atmosphere. She takes this time to look over the taller girl. Her hair is thick and black, framing her rich blue eyes. Atsuko’s eyes drift to the girl’s chest, the gold name tag reading-

“ **Sakuchi** **Mikei** , **Dentist**. It is good to see you Motome.”

Atsuko stops short, her brain momentarily stuttering. Holy shit, did she know Sakuchi? She doesn't remember ever meeting her, and everything about her is quite, memorable. “Uh… yeah. Motome Atsuko. How do you know me?”

Sakuchi’s eyebrows furrow, her mask scrunching from what must be her expression twisting with displeasure. “I am sorry to have worried you. I simply overheard your name, that is all.”

Atsuko supposes that makes sense. It's still strange, but Sakuchi doesn't seem rather socially sound.

Sakuchi stays silent for a moment, as if considering something. Takahashi smiles, leaning back on her heels in the silence. “Sakuchi Mikei, the Ultimate Dentist. She’s rather strict, and I’ve heard that she hasn’t consumed any confectionary since she was a child. She takes any and every type of client, from animals to those standing the highest within society. She’s intelligent, and incredibly beautiful! Not to mention she has such a sophisticated, womanly aura about her that-”

Sakuchi, having not been listening to the conversation, unintentionally interrupts Takahashi’s gushing to address Atsuko. “I understand that since it is your talent, it cannot be avoided, however, I would like to be updated as to how you are keeping your teeth. Open your mouth.”

“Woah! Wait! Hold up!”

Sakuchi, unheeding of Atsuko's shocked protests, firmly grasps Atsuko's jaw. She remains silent for a few moments, her eyes narrowing. She hums, releasing her. Atsuko can hear Takahashi’s poorly concealed laughter from over her shoulder.

“It seems your teeth are in rather good condition. Well done. Are you still flossing?”

“No?” Atsuko sincerely doubts anyone actually flosses. Honestly, her teeth being in a high enough standard to appease the ultimate dentist is incredible, seeing as there are days she forgets to even brush her teeth.

Sakuchi tuts, but her tone is warm. “I see. That is understandable, I am aware not many people take the time to floss.” Sakuchi grabs Atsuko's shoulders, eyes making contact with such an intensity that Atsuko feels like she's dying. “Motome, I will not pressure you, but if you wish to take even better care of your teeth you may talk to me again. However, understand that once you do, you and your teeth will be under strict supervision, am I clear.”

“Yeah, very clean- clear.”

“Good.”

Sakuchi, Atsuko decides, is very intimidating.

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**||** **_Ultimate Dentist_ **

**Sakuchi Mikei 佐口 美敬**

****

**Height:** 188 cm (6’1”)  
**Weight:** 84 kg  
**Birthday:** 14th February  
**Likes:** Dental floss, sugarless lollipops, scented stickers.  
**Dislikes:** Sugar, carbonated drinks, chocolates and sweets  
**||**

Looking behind herself, Atsuko can see Takahashi’s shit-face grin. “Very intense, hmm?”

“Yeah, in more ways than one.”

Next is a girl that Atsuko recognises from when she first entered the room. She’s a little shorter than Atsuko, but not by much. Her hair is a pristine white, curling stoically across her shoulders. It’s quite obviously dyed, however, as her eyebrows are an umber brown. Her eyes are so grey they’re almost black, and exude an intelligence within them. She’s wearing a deep brown suit jacket adorned with polished black buttons. Under her jacket, her shirt is a light gray button up. A light blue cravat is tucked neatly around her neck, topped with a deep black gem. Her blush pink skirt hides her knees, stopping along the top of her calf. Meeting just below the hem of her skirt, thin grey stockings are greeted by comfortable looking brown shoes, tied with black silk ribbons instead of laces.

When Takahashi sees who Atsuko is approaching, she starts to giggle a little. Atsuko looks at her, quizzical, and Takahashi starts laughing harder, her shoulders shaking from her poor attempt to conceal her mirth. Ignoring how cute this makes her, Atsuko decides to ignore her and greet the white-haired girl.

“Hey. I’m Motome Atsuko.”

The girl stays silent for a moment, her mind elsewhere. She notices Atsuko a beat after her greeting. “...Ah, I’ve been named **Fukuyo** **Yoshiko**.”

“Ah, okay. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yes.”

There's a feeling that Atsuko can't place, like she's forgetting something. Fukuyo quickly identifies what it is. Well, not quite, but is definitely something that Atsuko had forgot. “Oh, yes, would you mind divulging your talent?”

“Oh, yeah, shit. Ultimate Barista.”

For a split second, Fukuyo’s eyes spark with interest, and she claps her hands together. “My! How intriguing.”

“Yeah?’

“I am also the **Ultimate** **Barrister**.”

At this, Takahashi’s concealed laughter breaks free for a moment, before she tries to smother it with her hands.

Atsuko chooses to ignore her. “Is that possible?”

“Are you also of the legal persuasion?”

“I serve coffee, not justice.” Atsuko cringes internally at her own joke.

“How funny.”

Even though she says that, Fukuyo doesn't sound all too amused. Atsuko cringes harder.

“Yup.”

Fukuyo barely considers her. “Well then, Motome, on your way, many more persons to meet.”

“Ah yeah… “ Well, that was probably the politest ‘fuck off’ she's ever received.

Fukuyo, throughout the conversation, had not spared more than a few glances Atsuko’s way, but her tone, while not exceedingly welcoming, was still amicable.

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**||** **_Ultimate Barrister_ **

**Fukuyo Yoshiko 福与 良子**

****

**Height:** 176 cm (5’7”)  
**Weight:** 77 kg  
**Birthday:** 5th July  
**Likes:** Blueberry tea, black coffee  
**Dislikes:** Liars, papercuts  
**||**

Takahashi’s laughter is the soundtrack for Fukuyo’s exit. Takahashi has a hand placed poorly over mouth, her other hand waving helplessly through the air. She snorts every so often.

“It’s really not that funny Takahashi.”

Takahashi wheezes at Atsuko’s “Sorry sorry. Fukuyo Yoshiko, the Ultimate - haha- Ultimate Barrister. Having passed the bar exam at thirteen years old, she’s exceptional, and has participated in over 300 trials throughout her legal career so far, ranging from minor cases to ones processed in the high courts. With a success rate of 97%, she’s definitely earned her title as Ultimate Barrister.”

Holy shit. Hope's Peak kids are crazy. Well, not like Atsuko can say much, considering she is one.

“Although… I’ve heard rumours- no, no, nevermind, it’s unimportant.”

Well fuck, Takahashi, that’s comforting. Atsuko so badly wants to push it, but the steel resolve in her eyes kills any fantasy of Takahashi disclosing anything.

The next person Atsuko chooses is the boy that Fukuyo was talking with when Atsuko entered the room. He’s shorter than her, and has his arms placed almost defensively across his chest, fingers digging slightly into the fabric of his cornflower blue short sleeved button-up.

“Hey.”

The boy remains silent.

“Hey.”

Takahashi pitches in. “Hellooo?”

He still doesn't look at them.

In his silence, Atsuko looks over him. He’s rather pale, and a part of her is slightly alarmed at how thin he is. His arms and face are littered with pronounced freckles. The boy’s fingernails are painted deep pink, topped with a pale pink french tip. His short brown hair is tinged lightly green, and his fringe parts like a curtain to showcase his eyes. Speaking of which, his eyes are incredibly unusual, in a way Atsuko has never seen before. The irises are almost completely pitch black, but are rimmed with a tricolour of cyan, lilac and yellow. They're framed with long eyelashes. His dark green slacks are too long, and have been cuffed to stop him from tripping. Tucked into the neckline of his shirt are a pair of black frame glasses.

“Motome Atsuko. Ultimate Barista. Coffee kind.”

The boy flinches at her words, snapping his head in her direction. He still looks unsure, so Atsuko nods at him.

“Oh. Sorry. Barista, was it?” The boy pauses, brow pinched. “A four. Room for improvement.”

“What?”

The boy shifts his arms, reaching to absentmindedly flick his glasses. “Your introduction. It was abhorrent, but there’s room for improvement. You added ‘coffee kind’ as though I would assume otherwise. It's not like you said ‘barrister’, and you should note the different pronunciation.”

“Are you serious.” What a guy. And she means that in the most disbelieving way possible.

“An absolute 10/10.”

“Right, sure Mr. Critic.”

He nods, and Takahashi wiggles with excitement. As they speak, they overlap each other.

“Exactly. Well done, your logic has a solid overall rating.”

“Yep! He’s the **Ultimate** **Critic**! His reviews are respected Japan-wide, and are known for the fact that no matter what is stated, all those who read them are satisfied, stirring no controversy of backlash.”

Well, Atsuko was spot on then. “Huh. So what's your name, critic boy?”

He remains silent, Atsuko urging him in her mind.

“ **Utsune** **Susumu**.”

“Wow, two stars.”

There's a long stretch of silence.

Utsune’s shoulders shake slightly, his eyes averted from her. Internally Atsuko curses for upsetting him because she can't keep her damn mouth shut-

Utsune starts laughing. It's soft, and not overly visible, but he's definitely laughing. Atsuko lets out a brief amused huff in response.

Yeah, Utsune and her a probably more alike than she realises.

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**||** **_Ultimate Critic  
_**  
**Utsune Susumu** 右恒 進

****

**Height:** 171 cm (5’6”)  
**Weight:** 58 kg  
**Birthday:** 18th November  
**Likes:** Improvement, artistic expression  
**Dislikes:** Sweat, tryhards  
**||**

Takahashi is the one who chooses the next person for Atsuko to meet, her hand gently gripping Atsuko’s forearm as she pulls her towards a sleepy looking boy. His eyes are a pale but gentle green, and his smile is soft and somewhat tired. He blinks a few times as the pair approach. Atsuko speaks first. “Hey.”  
  
“Hello...”

There's a brief period of silence in which neither speak, the boy's eyes closing in a faux sleep. His head tilts forward, Atsuko almost moving in to support him. It's an unneeded gesture, as he jerks his head back into awareness. He shakes his head and turns his attention back to her. She clears her throat.

“Motome Atsuko, it’s nice to meet you.”

“ **Wakatsuchi** **Itsuki** … It’s a pleasure.” His words are littered with long pauses and slurred pronunciation, but it's not so bad to where Atsuko can't understand him.

“So, what’s your deal?”

Her question prompts Wakatsuchi to tilt his head slightly, his fingers running themselves through his fringe. “Hm… I’ve been told that my flowers are… some of the most beautiful in the world, in sight, smell… taste. I’m a **florist** … you?”

“Apparently I make good coffee. A barista,” She pauses for a moment, considering all her introductions so far. “I’m up for making you something.”

The absent-minded smile on Wakatsuchi’s face becomes uneasy, baring more teeth than necessary. “I’m sorry... I don’t… really like the taste of coffee…”

Damn. “That’s fine, I can make other drinks. Hot cho-” Ha, no way. “Tea? Actually you seem like a chai guy.”

His expression loses its edge of unease, his previous smile returning. “Sounds great… but only if you want to, don’t if it’s a bother.”

“Nah, no problem. I like you anyway.” And that's not only way too strong but also sending the totally wrong signals. “Like you seem like you’d make a good friend, I don't want to date you.” God Atsuko needs to learn to filter herself.

Wakatsuchi tucks his bang behind his ear, his eyes shifting to look upwards. “I’m… aware.” His face is full of contemplation. Atsuko wonders if she somehow upset him. He stays quiet for a few more moments, after which he shakes his head slightly, addressing Atsuko once more. “Thank you… You seem nice too.”

Atsuko's not too sure what to think about Wakatsuchi, the conversation reminding her of a slow drip coffee.

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**||** **_Ultimate Florist  
_**  
**Wakatsuchi Itsuki** 若土 樹

****

**Height:** 167 cm (5’4”)  
**Weight:** 70 kg  
**Birthday:** 3rd February  
**Likes:** Fertile environments, sunny environments  
**Dislikes:** Dry soil, spicy food  
**||**

Over his white tank top, Wakatsuchi is wearing a beige cardigan, the sleeves ending at his elbows. On his hands he wears dark brown, almost black, gardening gloves, made from thick worn-out leather, obviously old and loved. He wears a pair of blue shorts that end at his mid-thigh. His socks start just below his knees, and are a pale green, with little pink flowers sewn clumsily at the very tops of them. His white shoes perplex Atsuko for a moment, because white is not a colour that mixes well with the outdoors and well, dirt, at all. His butterscotch hair is a straightened mop tossed upon his head, with a thick bang dyed the colour of brown soil. Tucked behind his left ear is a pretty little magenta flower.

Takahashi pipes up, Atsuko thanking her internally because she needs the distraction from her own crippling embarrassment.

“Wakatsuchi, like he said, is the Ultimate Florist. His flowers are some of the best in the country, and he’s catered for events all across the world. His floral arrangement skills are highly regarded, and he’s won pretty much every competition he’s entered. His flowers can be used in a variety of ways- decoration, perfumes, in any number of meals!”

Atsuko just nods.

Next, Atsuko chooses a boy who emits an aura that’s way too casual for the situation they’ve found themselves in. Although making introductions in a cold concrete room is exceeding too casual as well. When Takahashi sees who Atsuko has chosen, she can barely conceal a slight grimace that crosses her face. Atsuko calls out to the boy. “Hey.”

A wide grin splits across the boy's face, one filled with mirth and barely concealed amusement.

“Uh, I’m Motome Atsuko.” His smile is so sudden it blindsides Atsuko, allowing him to interrupt her.

“Motome Atsuko? Can I Atsuko a question?”

“What.”

His grin is slightly larger now, his eyes bright and excited. “What’s your talent?”

“I'm a barista.”

“Well, you’re also an Ultimate, so that means no one can coffee your skills.” As he delivers this line, he winks at her, his body brimming with anticipation.

Atsuko lack of reaction causes him to visually deflate, the smile on his face downgrading to a more subdued version. He scratches at his hair, a little embarrassed. “Not feeling it? Ah well, whatever. I’m **Rashimoto** **Warai** , **Ultimate** **Comedian** , as you probably guessed.”

“…Yeah.”

An awkward silence descends between the two, and Atsuko looks at the boy. Immediately, she’s overwhelmed by the black-red colour scheme Rashimoto has seemed to dress himself in. His long-sleeve collar shirt is black, the rich red square-tie contrasting boldly. His jacket is a less searing, more muted red, with a little gold pin engraved with his previous school emblem. His shorts flare out at the knee, matching in colour with his tie. His white socks are well-worn and hang loose over his red-and-black sneakers. The colours of his outfit almost distract from his face, which is split with an easy grin. His bubblegum pink eyes are filled with mirth, displaying not a hint of worry. His pinkish grey hair is fluffy and uncombed, swept away from his eyes carelessly. He winks at her. “Like what you see?”

Atsuko shrugs. “Not particularly.”

At her words Takahashi makes a strangled sound of amusement. Rashimoto laughs it off, his eyes still filled with mirth, obviously unbothered by her response. Atsuko decides to voice the question that’s been brewing in her mind. “Your first name.”

“Yeah?”

“Real or fake?’

“One hundred percent real.”

“Huh.”

Bullshit.

There's another brief pause, during which Atsuko is almost certain she sees Rashimoto roll his eyes with an accompanying grimace. “Well, Motome, it’s been a pleasure, but this act is running overtime.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

While he doesn't seem too bothered, Atsuko pretty sure she's ruined whatever chance she has to get along with Rashimoto, if his almost literal run from her is any indication.

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**||** **_Ultimate Comedian_ **

**Rashimoto Warai らし本 笑い**

**Height:** 180 cm (5’9”)  
**Weight:** 79 kg  
**Birthday:** 1st April  
**Likes:** Jokes, stories, laughter  
**Dislikes:** Killjoys, hecklers  
**||**

“That was the Ultimate Comedian. Right now he’s in the height of his career. Every show he performs sells out immediately, with a 94% positive review rate. He’s already released dozens of specials, and two books. His stand-up is outstanding, and he has many female fans that fawn over him.” Takahashi’s expression is strange, to say the least.

“Lucky guy.”

Atsuko looks around the room, and realises she’s acquainted herself with pretty much every person she can see. She turns to Takahashi, to confirm that she’s finally finished introductions. Takahashi shakes her head, her finger pointing steadily at a girl standing stiffly away from the rest of the students. Her face is set in a steel mask of unpleasant attitude. “She’s the last one! Be prepared though, her pretty face is just a distractor!”

“With that grimace she’s not that attractive.”

“Hmmm, I guess our tastes must be a little different then Motome. Let’s agree to disagree!”

The girl, Atsuko now realises, is the girl who had earlier called Shiori a coward. She supposes that she would be rather pretty without the deep grimace that rests across her face. Her eyes are a simple cyan, narrowed in disinterest at her surroundings. Her grey hair is pulled into a tight side ponytail, secured with a mesh scrunchy. Her fringe is parted away from her eyes, her bangs hanging to cover her ears. Her round collar shirt is pastel yellow, a neat, small, white bow around the neck. Black suspenders secure a knee-length skirt in place. The skirt reminds Atsuko of an old picnic blanket she used to own, a dichotomy of orange and red in neat squares. White socks peek out from the grey boots that stop at the top of her calves.

When the girl notices Atsuko’s approach, her scowl deepens in distaste. As Motome opens her mouth, the girl cuts her off. “ **Tsuzuki** **Aina**. **Anthropologist**.”

“Motome Atsuko, barista. It’s nice to-”

“Whatever.”

Tsuzuki’s curtness is not only present in her words, but in her actions, as Atsuko is left looking at her retreating back without the time to register her final word. What the fuck.

**[Companion Crystal Obtained]**

**||** **_Ultimate Anthropologist_ **

**Tsuzuki Aina 都築 愛菜**

**Height:** 173 cm (5’6”)  
**Weight:** 72 kg  
**Birthday:** 4th April  
**Likes:** Digging, History  
**Dislikes:** Social interaction, people  
**||**

Atsuko turns in astonishment to Takahashi. Takahashi smiles and laughs somewhat uncomfortably. “That was Tsuzuki Aina, the Ultimate Anthropologist. As you just saw, she is rather, uh, brisk! In her attitude. Uhm, as an Anthropologist, she has an incredibly in depth knowledge of customs and the development of human culture! Uhm, oh! But actually, she’s more involved in the studies of archaeological anthropology, and less of the sociocultural aspect. She’s a key researcher, having released several non-fictional works and participating in a number of documentaries. I’ve also heard she works with conservation and restoration efforts for the preservation of many historical sites all around the world!”

“That shitty attitudes gonna get her nowhere, even if she is incredible.”

“I suppose you're right.” Without a warning, Takahashi spins in a slow rotation, her arms propped open, as though hugging the air. Once she finishes this sweeping gesture, she claps her hands together, smiling up at Atsuko. “Well! The introductions of everyone are finally done! What do you think Motome?”

“They're alright.”

Takahashi swings her arms in a type of gesture that suggests victory. Her smile shifts from ecstatic to a more homely one, her eyes softening with a fondness almost too familiar for Atsuko’s breath. “Good good! I’m so glad! And you seem so much better than before now.”

“Yeah, well, that’s thanks to you. You really helped me out.”

“Nonsense! No need to thank me, friends help each other out not matter what!”

Atsuko blinks, looking down at her.

Immediately Takahashi flusters, her hands waving sporadically through the air. “Oh! I hope I wasn’t being presumptuous, but I would really like to consider you a friend Motome, if you don’t mind.”

Atsuko barely avoids being hit with a stray flail, gently grabbing Takahashi’s wrist. She gives her a smile, one that makes her eyes crinkle and her nose scrunch, one she only lets herself use for those familiar and genuine. “Of course, yeah. Friends, you and me.”

The grin that breaks out onto Takahashi’s face is like the sunrise. “Wonderful!”

As if mocking Takahashi’s words, the dimly lit room that houses the students is suddenly submerged in pitch darkness.

“GAHHH! NOT THE DARK!” Gae’s panicking screech is the first voice to break through the darkness.

“Ah!”

“Woah. Shh, it's okay.” Atsuko can hear Shiori(?) let out a startled yelp, followed by, Hiraku’s(?) soothing. At least Atsuko thinks it's their voices. Even Gae’s shriek is a guess, she hasn't spent enough time with them to confidently identify them.

“It’s alright everyone, don’t panic!” Hisakawa’s voice tries to echo across the room, but it's swallowed by the chattering noise.

Wakatsuchi mutters from behind her “Oh… the lights.” And despite the situation, Atsuko feels a tinge of amusement at his delayed reaction.

Atsuko stays still in the darkness, but lets her left hand reach out, feeling in the darkness. Her fingertips brush the top of someone’s head.

“Oh!”

Atsuko has definitely heard enough of that voice to recognise it.

“Shit, sorry, it’s just me.”

Takahashi exhales in relief. “Oh thank goodness.”

The darkness is only momentary, as without a warning, the mounted display screen bursts to life. Static erupts from the speakers on the sides of the screen, overpowering any panicked remarks from the rest of the students.

The screen displays a heart. Split at the middle, the left side is lifeless black, while the right side is an interrupted white, with a thin crack disrupting the purity. Through the static, a voice, barely discernible, breaks through. It’s distorted, and almost non-human.  **_“Hello, hello? You elites listening with those super special ears of yours? Oh man oh man I can’t believe this is happening! Are you guys all here now? You all ready? No? No you say? Well too bad! It’s happening, I’m here, you’re here, so it’s happening, no way out out now! Ahh! Oh I can hardly wait!”_ **

Atsuko stares in disbelief at the screen; the voice it exudes is so uniquely excited that it’s almost infectious.

She can hear an annoyed sigh somewhere from her left, Utsune’s disgusted voice following after. “What the hell is this presentation? I can see what they were going for but it’s hardly unique.”

**_“Hey Hey Hey, shut your mouth Ultimate! I’m not asking for your freaking judgement! Let me say what I wanna say! Ohh I can barely contain it! Are you ready? I bet you aren’t!”_ **

“As it seems you can hear us, I would like to enquire as to why we are here.” The calmness of Fukuyo’s voice permeates the darkness. Atsuko can feel herself partially relax, the idea that someone is unaffected by this strange situation a secret comfort.

Rashimoto adds, “And ‘where’ we are would be pretty great too.”

He barely gets to finish his sentence, Tsuzuki snapping out, “Obviously the why is more important, shut your mouth.”

“Geez Aina, it's been, what, less than an hour, and you're already horrible to be around.” There's an audible eyeroll.

Sakuchi chimes in. “Actually, it has been over an hour, by my assumption.”

The voice yells louder to compensate for the, frankly, way too casual chatter.

**_“Oi! Don’t just talk! You’ll miss it! You don’t want to miss it do you? If you keep ignoring me you’ll miss my Ultimate announcement!”_ **

Tsuzuki, who is either incredibly courageous or astronomically stupid, hisses at the voice, “God just fucking say your piece already.”

The voice doesn't take any real offense. **_“Well rude… but okay! Okay okay okay okay- I’m so ready! I’m so so so so so so so ready! Gahaha! Aaaaah! Okay okay okay! The reason you’re all here is - drumroll please- OH the anticipation! The reason you’re here is… A KILLING GAME! DUN DUN DUN! That’s right! You Ultimates are all gonna kill each other, one by one, until only a survivor stands victorious!”_ **

At these strange, churning words, the former chaos returns like a crashing wave.

It's impossible to understand the shouting that breaks out, voices merging into a cesspool of indignation, anger, and predominantly, fear. Scepticism too, but those voices are drowned and choked by the fingers of dread that the voice has unleashed.

At the words, at their meaning, their truth, Atsuko’s blood freezes, icy in her veins. She can hear Takahashi’s breath catch, almost indecipherable among the reactions of the other students around her. Her hand finds Takahashi’s forearm, and Atsuko squeezes in a way she hopes is comforting to the girl.

And yet, that girl is still unaffected, her words as calm and amicable as ever. Atsuko finds her, admirable. Fukuyo holds no hesitation. “I would like to inquire as to what reason we would do so.”

The voice replies, excited, with an undercurrent of, irritation maybe? **_“That answer’s real simple! If ya don’t kill, ya can’t leave. See simple. If no one dies, then no one leaves. You’ll all be stuck in this fucking boring as hellhole until the end of your natural lives.”_ **

The room falls into complete silence. Atsuko can’t take her eyes from the screen, but she’s sure she can discern someone sobbing.

A voice cuts through the silence. Unlike Fukuyo, Sakuchi’s riddled with uncertainty, the strong words undercut by the poorly hidden desperation. “While… I will not either doubt you or agree with you, it is not… plausible to think that keeping us here will result in a killing. You say we will live here... until the ‘end of our natural lives’ yes? But I see only a room with a monitor, and a door with a dead end hallway. There are no necessities in sight for us to-”

This time, the voice's irritation flashes hot, a hungry open flame. “ **_God shut up. You’ll kill each other, that’s for sure. Your ‘natural life’ is pretty fucking short now! Whatever. The other door’s unlocked- you know, the one to the left of this monitor? Go through there- and find yourself in- wait for it- HOPE’S PEAK ACADEMY! That’s right Ultimates! Right now you’re in the basement- did Hope’s Peak have a basement?- or whatever, of such a prestigious academy! You’ll be living out the killing game there. All necessities to make sure none of you die boring deaths are provided to you. Now GO! Go go go go! Let’s get started! I’ve been waiting for this for forever!”_ **

As soon as those words are spoken, the door that sits in the left of the large room swings open, and a brilliant stream of light illuminates the exit. Atsuko feels Takahashi’s own fingers grip tightly onto the fabric of her shirt, Takahashi trying softly to mumble reassuring words, for her own sake or Atsuko’s, they both couldn’t know.

**_“Go go go. Through the door and into the game!”_ **

At last the voice cuts off, the display monitor pitching itself back into darkness. There are several beats of silence before-

“ALRIGHT! Let’s go!” Hisakawa’s voice booms across the room, his smile evident and tenfold. His figure is silhouetted by the light; he's almost larger than life. His exuberance isn't at all contagious, his lightheartedness an almost eyesore to some within the group.

Tsuzuki growls out her distaste. “Are you joking? Like hell I’m stepping through that door.”

“Nope! No joke! Let’s go.”

Ito, while really not caring either way, pipes up. It's more of a way to dissent against Tsuzuki than in support of Hisakawa. “Yeah, there’s no waaaaaay we can stay here.”

Sakuchi hesitates. “If we walk through that door, will this so called game not start?”

Having been incredibly quiet, it's a surprise when the one to answer her is Yonamine. “What, we can’t just stay here, are you kidding?”

“Idon’twanttogo- BUTWE CAN’T STAY EITHER!” Gae's nervousness is most definitely not advancing the situation. Her loud tone catches the attention of Tsuzuki, who whips her focus from Hisakawa.

“So you want the game to start? You want to kill.” Her words are ice.

Gae’s eyes widen, she's stupefied. “HUH!? OF COURSE NOT!!”

“God shut up, you're so loud.”

“YOU JUST SAID I WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE?!”

Hiraku chooses to ignore mostly everyone. Mostly. “Hmm… Hey, Shiori, what do you want to do?”

Shiori just shakes his head. “Ahh, uhm… I dunno.”

Rashimoto laughs lightly, slinging his arm over Shiori’s shoulders. “C’mon Yuuma, what kinda pathetic answer is that?”

“Uhm…”

“Hey, lay off man.” While Hiraku's tone is light, there's an almost tangible bitter edge behind them. He nudges Rashimoto’s arm off Shiori’s shoulder. Rashimoto just grins.

Atsuko hears Wakatsuchi sigh behind her. "This is… unfortunate.” What an understatement.

The bickering slowly gets worse, unheeding of Hisakawa’s attempts to calm it. Atsuko holds onto Takahashi tighter, the overlapping voices rattling at her brain as they try to construct a headache. It's just noise at this point, useless and unneeded and certainly not helping the situation but they just keep talking and arguing and getting nowh-

“I’m going.”

The noise is suddenly halted. Akiyama’s voice, although quiet, is almost overpowering. Without waiting for a response from the group, they leave through the door. For a second, Atsuko holds her breath, although she’s unsure as to why she’s apprehensive, but her growing anxiety is quickly mollified when Akiyama’s hand sticks itself back through the doorway in a loose thumbs up. Hisakawa whoops in excited joy. He turns to the group, a large, open smile across his face.

“Yeah! This guy gets it! Er- Not guy! Sorry!”

Akiyama’s hand waves his remark off in an apparent ‘no problem’ gesture.

Fukuyo inclines her head in an almost nonexistent nod. “I agree with both Hisakawa and Akiyama. All evidence is indicative that staying in this room is impossible and highly inconsiderable. Let’s go.”

Ignoring any remaining dissenters in the group, Fukuyo follows Akiyama through the door. Slowly, the others exit, some on their own, some accompanied by others.

Hisakawa waits by the door, gently patting the more nervous students on the back as they exit.

“OKAY SACHIKI! It’s just JUSTADOOR!”

“YEAH!”

As Tsuzuki approaches the door, Hisakawa pats her heartily on the shoulder. She looks at him with an expression that can freeze fire. “Haha, man your expression is scary! My bad.”

As the last of the students trickle out, Hisakawa turns his attention to Atsuko and Takahashi. “C’mon guys! It’s gonna be alright! Killing or whatever? No way is that happening! ‘Cause I’m gonna look out for everyone! No one’s gonna die or be killed on my watch!”

Takahashi’s grip on Atsuko slackens slightly, and she looks up at Atsuko, a wavy smile on her face. Atsuko meets her gaze, and nods grimly. They turn to look at Hisakawa, whose grin is a little less bright, but more warm. Atsuko steels herself, and let’s Takahashi lead her through the door.

 

**Prologue: Awake in a Strange Place: END**

 

**REMAINING STUDENTS: 15**


	2. Chapter One: Live and Let Die: Daily Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I didn't realise it's literally been six months? Anyway I added some sprites to the character introductions last chapter
> 
> Enjoy!

**Daily Life**

 

Atsuko isn't quite sure what she expects as she steps through the door. With all the apparent fanfare and headache-inducing anxiety, she had definitely been anticipating a sight more horrific than the one she witnesses. It’s just, a normal room. No dried blood, no hanging corpses, nothing but a plain, furnished entrance hall.

And that itself unnerves her. 

This place, the place where they are supposed to die, is so painfully average and bland in its appearance that Atsuko can't visualise it as she blinks.

Takahashi lets out a relieved sigh, turning herself to face Atsuko. There's a gentle tremble to her, but she keeps her hands steady as she talks. “Well, I, I guess I was expecting something a little more, loud! And upsetting, but I suppose this is pretty strange too.”

Nodding her head, Atsuko takes in more of the room. The rest of the students now mill around the entrance hall, some visibly confused, or in a partial state that teeters between relief and disbelief. “This place is real damn bland for a prestigious academy huh.”

“It is remarkably similar to the hotels my orchestra and I will sometimes stay at during performances.”

Akiyama rests their hand on the back of a plush chair pushed haphazardly against a support pillar. Their brief touch elicits an explosion of dust into the air, while they stare blankly at the hand shaped clearing. “It’s dusty.”

“No one-” Shiori coughs, caught in the dust explosion. “No one’s been, been here for a, for a long time.”

Utsune runs a thin finger along the wall, his face disgusted. “How do you know that? I'd say it's just not been cleaned.”

“Uh, uhm, ‘m sorry…” Shiori backs down, as if anticipating an argument. Utsune blinks at him, uncertainty replacing disgust, as he tries to understand what he said wrong.

“Shit- uh I…”

A scoff causes their heads to snap to Tsuzuki. Her face is its usual grimace, and even though she is addressing them, she doesn’t so much as look at them. “What, can't stand up for yourself? If it hasn't been cleaned then clearly no one's around to clean, obviously. No way some fancy academy's going to let it's interior rot just because some staff half-ass their job.”  


It takes a moment for her words to sink in. Utsune’s quick to nod, regarding them both. “I see. That's a reasonable conclusion, Tsuzuki, Shiori.”

Tsuzuki still doesn't look at them, eyes fixed to the ceiling, face unpleased.

“Ah, uhm… thank, thank you, Tsuzuki…” Shiori’s is much quieter, insecurity clustering the edges.

Tsuzuki almost doesn't reply, a snappy, “Shut it, don’t care.” Surprisingly lackluster in its hostility.

Eventually, they all reconvene around Hisakawa. He's all smiles as usual, chuffed like a proud bird.

Yonamine is the one who voices the concern growing on most everyone's mind. “So, what now?”

“Good question!” Hisakawa laughs. “I have no idea!”

That is possibly the least comforting thing he could have said.

Yonamine shares her sentiment. “Lovely.”

Ito reaches out, grabbing onto the sleeve of Yonamine's sweater. “I saaaay… we explore!”

He nods at her. “Yeah?”

She nods back. “Yeah!”

Gae’s eyes widen. “HOLD ON! WHATIFWE DIE?”

It's Fukuyo who answers her. “It’s better to proceed with the assumption that our environment is safe. Any further pondering of the subject is unwarranted.”

Someone else pipes in, but Atsuko is distracted by Takahashi’s small gasp of surprise. She regards her. “What's up?”

Takahashi holds up her ID card, “Motome, check this!”

Atsuko, as Takahashi urges her on, takes her electroID from her shirt pocket, lightly tapping at the power button. Her name is displayed for a full second, the four apps from before filling the screen. The map app is now coloured, so Atsuko assumes it's active and confirms it by tapping lightly.

It's not the best map, all things considered, but it'll make do. Atsuko raises her head to look at the others, caught in their conversations. “Oi, hey.”

The sudden feeling of eyes on her catches her off guard. “Yeah- uh, so like, the map, or whatever.” It's fumbled, but her explanation is understood.

“This makes exploring way better. ‘Kay I'm in.” Rashimoto nods.

Sakuchi tilts her gaze to Atsuko. “It would be best to check our surroundings. Thank you for letting us know, Motome.”

“Uh, actually Takahashi told me so-”

“Thank you Takahashi.” Sakuchi is already turning her words to her.

“Oh I didn't really say all that much.”

Tsuzuki scoffs. “Yeah, you didn't.”

Hisakawa interrupts her before any argument can spike. “Alright! A map makes everything better! Let's explore!” He moves to leave, forcibly stopped as Fukuyo halts him.

“A moment.”

The confusion on his face is palpable. Hisakawa truly is an open book.

Fukuyo continues. “It would be best to not travel alone. Otherwise victims would be quite easy to subdue and kill.” Her words have no visible effect on herself, but Hisakawa looks slightly unnerved.

“Uh, we-well! Haha, you really don't sugar coat it. But you're right! Everyone, let's pair-”

“That is also inadvisable. We move in groups of three.”

“Alright, I get ya. Everyone cool with that?” The responding silence did nothing to deter Hisakawa’s grin. “Great! So there's fifteen of us, and that means that…Uh…”

He trails off. Utsune answers his unaided question. “We'll have five groups.”

“Yeah!”

“Unbelievable.”

“Haha, yeah. I'm not great at that stuff.” His words are stated like a fact, nothing self-deprecating about them. Even so, Wakatsuchi reassures him.

“It’s…Endearing.”

His words visibly catch Hisakawa off guard, but not in an unpleasant way. “Ya think so?” Hisakawa scratches at the bandage on his cheek.

“...Yeah” Wakatsuchi smiles slightly softer.

Hisakawa seems so wrapped up in the compliment that he stays silent. It's like the guy’s never received a compliment before.

“Groups?” Akiyama's single word pulls him out of it.

He waves them off. “Just with whoever's fine!”

Ito hops in, eager. “To save time, groups should investigate one room and report back.” She swings her hand up high. “I call storage!”

“Dining…Hall…” Wakatsuchi supplies.

“Uhm…” Shiori manages to find his voice, “I'd like to check the, check the kitchen first?”

Hiraku smiles at him. “I'll go with you.”

“Infirmary.”

“I wanna look at the storage!” Ito’s energy cancels out Akiyama's low tension request.

“We heard you.” Tsuzuki spits out.

While Atsuko was itching to see the setup of the kitchen, doing so would separate her from Takahashi. That, and being a third wheel was never fun. She looks over at Takahashi. Takahashi seems to think for a moment, expression as unsure as Atsuko feels.

“I'd like to see the bathrooms.”

The bathrooms? That was the least interesting place. Atsuko could picture it now, tiles and water, slippery death hell. She opens her mouth, ready to comply.

Sakuchi is faster. “I would like to look at the bathrooms too.”

So is Rashimoto. “Yeah, I'm all about that cleanliness.”

Hisakawa grins. “Cool! First group formed.”

Oh, well, nevermind the bathroom then. She catches Takahashi’s eyes as she leaves, who mouths back ‘my bad’. Atsuko returns with an ‘it's fine’ gesture. Shit, her little interaction cost her the kitchen, Yonamine departing with Hiraku and Shiori.

She ends up in storage with Ito and Tsuzuki.

Ito has made no short work of immediately rummaging through the numerous cardboard boxes that litter the floor, a grin on her face that grows wider and wider as she hums aimlessly. Tsuzuki occupies herself with the sole shelf in the room. Atsuko kicks at a mouldy box and wants the exploring to be over, already exceedingly bored. God, she should have just taken the kitchen when she had the chance.

The box she kicked sits there, staring at her with it's big, blank box face. Atsuko sighs, bending down to open it. The ache in her back rears its head, but she ignores it mostly, allowing herself to hiss air through her teeth. The box is packed to the brim with yellowing envelopes, some slightly mouldy and mostly unusable. The sight's a little strange, but there's worse things that could be in a box. Whatever, not like she has any urgent mail to send.

She looks up. Huh, Tsuzuki is staring at her. She waits for her to say something, but the silence persists, only ending because Atsuko breaks it.

“Envelopes.”

Tsuzuki arches an eyebrow. “What?”

“The box. It has envelopes.”

“Whatever.”

Cool. So much for being friendly. She looks back down at the envelopes

“…there's a French press.”

Atsuko whips her head up.

“Nevermind.” But in Tsuzuki’s hands, she can see it, in all its glass and metal glory, a _caffettiera a stantuffo_ , and Atsuko internally loses her shit.

The box of envelopes now forgotten, Atsuko compartmentalises the press. The metal is turning coarse, rust eating a slow meal through the steel. The glass is dirty but not unsalvageable. Without really being aware of her actions, Atsuko grabs the machine from Tsuzuki, a move both enthusiastic yet careful. Tsuzuki grunts, but does little else.

“Hello beautiful.”

The glass is chilled, the heat of the room keeping it at an almost frosty state. The metal is rough, leaving behind an ugly sound as she scraps her fingernails across it. The handle is plastic, scratched from excessive mishandling. Atsuko presses the machine against her chest and inhales. It smells of dust and old coffee grounds and is so, so familiar.

“What a pretty lady you are. Just need some love and care, don't you?”

Tsuzuki stares at her, grimace now just straight up confusion. Atsuko has the decency to feel a little sheepish. “Thanks. Just, means a lot.”

“Right, okay, you fucking weirdo.”

“Okay I'm done!” Ito stands up, brushing the dust and debris from her stark white shorts. Well, not so white anymore.

“Anything interesting?” Considering the soggy box of envelopes, Atsuko hopes Ito had at least a little more luck.

Ito thinks for a moment, rocking back on her heels. “There were three boxes of tinned plums.”

“Plums are good.” Not her favourite, but hey, most fruit’s pretty good.

“They were all expired though.”

“Oh.”

“There were two more boxes of tinned pears!”

“Pears aren't bad.” She didn't particularly like them but-

“They were expired too!”

Tsuzuki rolls her eyes. “That doesn't help us.”

Ito hums thoughtfully. “Right, right. Uhmm, hmmm. There was a box of tinned-”

“No more tinned fruit! I don't care!” Tsuzuki snaps, thrown close into a fruit-filled rage.

“-Cherries.” Ito’s smile remains the same.

Atsuko decides to intervene. “Anything besides tinned fruit, Ito?”

Ito shrugs in an all too grandiose way. “Just bulk stuff like toilet paper and tampons.” She thinks for a moment longer. “Stuff like rope and glue and cleaning stuff too.”

Atsuko turns her attention to the other girl.“Tsuzuki, anything interesting?”

She sighs. “Besides your new French girlfriend? Just lightbulbs and blankets. And like two condoms.”

“What, like two boxes?”

“No, just two, individually wrapped condoms.”

“Huh.”

“Are we done?”

Ito laughs. “To the entrance hall! The entrance haaaaaaall!”

Atsuko gives the sad room a once-over. And stops. She approaches the shelving which Tsuzuki had previously stood by. She had overlooked something. “Hey, Tsuzuki, there's one of those baton things.”

“Why would I care.”

“Just thought it would interest you.” She grabs it. Well whatever, there's definitely someone else who would appreciate this.

\---

When she returns to the main hall, Takahashi greets her. She smiles, and waves in a rather grandiose manner. “Motome! The bathrooms were quite unsurprisingly bland, so it didn't take too long. Oh! What’s this you're holding?” She gestures to the machine Atsuko hugs one-handedly to her chest.

Atsuko looks down, then back up, grinning.  “Coffee maker.”

“I see! Found that in the storage room?”

“Actually, Tsuzuki found it. Gave it to me.”

Takahashi gasps, making a not-so-subtle gesture towards Tsuzuki. “Oh! How delightful! If only she could find me my orchestra!”

“Well. It's not your orchestra but-” She lifts her other hand. “I found this.”

Takahashi's eyes widen “Oh! A conductor’s baton!” She gingerly takes it, giving it a test wave. “Exquisite! Thank you Motome!”

Sakuchi approaches the pair, a trickle of fondness on her features. “What did you find, Motome?”

“Ah, coffee maker and a baton. I think I remember seeing a box of toothbrushes at some point.”

“It would have been troubling if you had not. Thank you for informing me.”

“No problem.”

“Motome, if you do not mind, I would like to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How o-"

“I AM HERE!” Hisakawa’s loud voice bounces across the room, catching the attention of the room.

Slowly, the rest of the groups trickle into the main hall like a fine grind.

Hisakawa, Wakatsuchi and Gae make their report first, Hisakawa taking the lead. “The dining hall was pretty standard. There's a big table and some chairs, but that's about it!”. He gestures at Gae as if to say ‘please, continue.’

“There's alotof broken plates too.” Huh, her speech is still pretty rushed, but Gae seems much quieter now, posture more, relaxed?

“It's...Spacious.”

Gae smiles at Wakatsuchi. “Muchlike you.”

He blinks, and then laughs softly.

Fukuyo, Akiyama and Utsune speak next. Fukuyo and Utsune start, voices overlapping each other. They both pause, visibly bewildered, Fukuyo’s smile tight.

“Go ahead.” Her voice is a clear contrast to her words, to which Utsune raises an eyebrow. He refuses to falter.

“Okay.”

Fukuyo’s smile tightens even more. Their eyes meet in a silent, passive-aggressive argument.

Utsune gives in with a sigh. Why does he even bother starting confrontations if he's gonna back out immediately. Or what, is it unintentional? Atsuko should probably ask him later. “I mean, I'm good. You go.”

“Thank you.” Atsuko thinks those words really mean something like ‘as I expected’ or ‘that’s right, don't you dare go against me, fiend!’ Although the latter is, admittedly, a little more farcical.

Utsune looks at Akiyama, as if to share his exasperation, but their face remains impassive. He sighs again, exasperated. “Lawyers.”

“I am not a lawy-” Fukuyo cuts herself off, schooling the sudden, almost comical indignation into a calm smile. “As I was saying, after investigating the laundry, I can confirm it’s much like the reportings of the dining hall. Quite sparse I must say, there's only one washer and dryer. By which I mean there's one separate washer and one separate dryer, so theoretically two loads of laundry could be processed at on-”

Akiyama interrupts, “We understand.”

Utsune tags on, “You said the same thing when we were in the laundry.”

Fukuyo frowns. “But the others did not hear that, and it's important for all individuals to be-”

He groans. “We get it.”

“Of course.” It's like she's unsure what expression to make, but there's definitely a downtrodden element apparent in her eyes. “My apologies.”

There’s an unsure silence as the remaining groups wait for who wants to go next. Shiori manages to struggle out, “Uhm-”

His attempt at talking is overtaken by Yonamine, whose voice easily drowns him out. “Before we continue I would like to say something.” With this warning, Yonamine bows, long and deeply.  


“I would like to apologise for my earlier behaviour!”

He pauses, waiting for a reply that no-one can seem to supply. It encourages him to barrel on. “I realise that I must have been extremely rude earlier. I was really offset by this whole thing and I know that I have no excuse for my behaviour but-”

“Yo, buddy! It's okay! Really!” Hisakawa manages to recover, probably for the best too, because Yonamine's apology is starting to become even more alarming.

“Yeah Michichi, no one really cares.” Ito chirps up, rustling his hair, his bow now making it accessible to her height.

“Oh.” He straightens, smoothing his hair back from the nest Ito has made of it. Atsuko expects him to at least say something more substantial, but it seems that's all it takes to appease Yonamine.

Hiraku taps the back of his hand lightly against Shiori’s shoulder.

Shiori starts. “Uh- okay. Uhm.” He stammers some more, critically aware of the attention now on him. “There’s, there’s, there's uh…” He sighs softly, looking back up at Hiraku. “‘m sorry.”

Hiraku smiles, “It's alright.” He turns to the rest of the group. “There’re two fridges, some cupboards, a stove with an oven, and a walk-in freezer.”

Shiori, in lieu of addressing the entire group, nods at Hiraku. “We have to, to clean out the expired food, otherwise people will get, get sick.”

Sakuchi hums. "Is all the food expired?”

Hiraku shakes his head. “Not all of it, but a good amount. Mostly perishables though, so stuff like flour and rice is fine.”

Shiori nods again in that bobble head way of his. “We’ll need to filter for, filter for weevils. They're not, not dangerous, but-”

“Mototo, Tsuzuzu and me were storage!” Ito butts in, barreling on before anyone can object, ready to expose the absolute nothing they discovered. “It was just boxes and baaaad fruit!”

Atsuko assents. “For a storage room there was shit-all being stored. I found a box of envelopes but that's it.”

“I didn't check all the boxes though.” Ito doesn't even look sheepish. Atsuko can't let herself be too mad at her, seeing as there are so many boxes.

Tsuzuki has no problem showing her frustration. “What?”

Ito just echoes Atsuko's internal sentiment. “There were soooo many!”

Hisakawa laughs. “That's okay Ito, we'll just check them later.”

“And what did you find, Aina?” Rashimoto smile radiates barely concealed smugness that pretty much says ‘you didn't do shit, did you.’

“A shelf of fuck you.” Tsuzuki’s grimace gains edges of a snarl.

He lifts his hands in gesture of mock defeat.

Sakuchi starts to talk, “We found-”

“It’s a bathroom, pretty much.” People here really like talking over each, Atsuko thinks, as Rashimoto flippantly cuts Sakuchi off.

Takahashi claps her hands together. “Oh! We tried the taps, but there's only cold water!”

With this discovery, a variety of protests arise. Takahashi looks worried, “I'm quite sorry, but there's nothing to be done.”

Rashimoto laughs, sidling up to Hiraku’s side. He nudges him, a large grin sharpening the corners of his mouth. “I think a couple of cold showers could do some of us a lot of good. Thoughts, Hiraku?”

Hiraku’s smile could not be more strange than it is now. “Haha, well…” Atsuko can't tell if he's uneasy or not, his tone level.

Tsuzuki takes this opportunity to snipe “I heard cold showers help with baldness, could do you some good Rashimoto.”

It seems Rashimoto is starting to tire of her, his smile morphing into more of a leer. “Huh, that's interesting, I heard it helps bitchiness. I guess we'll both benefit, won't we?”

Tsuzuki opens her mouth, posture straightening. Sakuchi steps in. “As I was saying, the bathrooms are split into male and female, so there will be no mixed bathing.”

Akiyama mutters something under their breath.

Sakuchi tilts her head almost inconsequentially to the side. “What was that?”

Ito raises her voice loud. “Akiki said-”

“Nothing.” Their voice holds no room for argument.

Sakuchi continues, visibly deflating as she says her next words. “Unfortunately, I was unable to locate an exit.” Her eyes are sad.

Rashimoto scoffs. “Obviously, did you really think there'd be an exit in a bathroom.”

Sakuchi looks at him. “You never know what you may find in a bathroom. It is a place of many wonders.” Was that, a joke? If it was, Sakuchi’s sense of humour is, unfortunate at best, but she has a good idea, looking for an exit should be the number one priority.

“So,” Utsune seems to have been waiting for something, “Did no group explore all these unnamed rooms?”

Fukuyo writes him off. “I had assumed they were empty.”

Hisakawa thinks for a second, mouths ‘empty rooms’ and checks his ID card. He laughs sheepishly. “Oh yeah! I guess I overlooked them! Whoops!”

A voice sounds from nowhere, so jarring in the conversation it grounds all voices to a halt.

“ **_Oh yeah those.”_ **

“Ah, it’s you again.” Fukuyo says this like she's greeting a fellow classmate.

**_“They're whatever rooms. Ms Barista here is right, they're pretty much empty.”_ **

That earlier indignation returns. “I am a barrister.”

**_“What? Oh, who fucking cares, you're batting for the same team anyway. As I was saying, before Ms look-at-me-I'm-A-Barrister interrupted, they're empty rooms. I threw in some mattresses, you can sleep there. Find your own blankets.”_ **

The static cuts, and with it, the voice.

It takes Hisakawa less than a second to recover. “That's great! Bedrooms!”

“The blanket comment is somewhat troubling.” Sakuchi’s shoulders are tense.

“There would probably be some in the storage, no?” Takahashi doesn't seem all too worried.

Atsuko, as the others talk, rechecks her the map. There's something slightly troubling about it, and she does a quick head count. She confirms it. “Hey, there's only fourteen rooms.”

“WHAT?!” Gae pulls out her ID, almost dropping it in her flurry of movement. “Ohnoyou’reright?!”

Utsune seems more frustrated by a different matter entirely. “So no one checked the rooms, and let me guess, no one checked the infirmary either?”

Hisakawa gives him a sheepish shrug. “Oops?”

Utsune pinches in between his brow, sounding like he's never been more disappointed in someone ever. “Seriously?”

Hisakawa’s sheepishness grows, a flustered blush starting to paint his face.”Guess I overlooked it?”

Wakatsuchi comes to his defense, as slow as it is. “It is…In the corner.”

Encouraged by Wakatsuchi, Yonamine nods. “To be fair, Utsune, you didn't check it either.”

Utsune is quiet for a moment, mulling over their words. Eventually, he relents. “Yeah, point taken.”

“I did.” Akiyama speaks.

Hisakawa starts. “You did?”

“I said I would from the beginning.” Oh yeah, Atsuko did remember something like that being said.

Fukuyo regards them. “Ah, that’s right, you did depart in search of another bathroom at one point.”

Wait.

“You let Akiyama go alone?” Atsuko can't keep the incredulousness from her voice. Seriously, all this talk about safety in groups, and Fukuyo just? Breaks her own words? Really?

Fukuyo is unfazed. “If everyone is grouped, then one lone straggler will not cause damage.”

While Atsuko sees her logic, it's not airtight. “Yeah, but what if like, someone else had split from their group.” Isn't Fukuyo a barrister? How does someone in her profession make such an oversight?

Fukuyo’s expression is perfectly unaffected. “Then the culprit of said murder would be quite obvious.”

The words are so cold Atsuko has no idea how to begin to approach the statement. “That's… you're not wrong.”

Fukuyo just smiles her ever-present smile. “Yes, I am not wrong.”

“Actually, you are.” It's Utsune, matter-of-factly calling her out.

“Pardon?”

Utsune sighs, and he pinches the bridge of his nose once more. “It's ‘a lone straggler’ not ‘one lone straggler’. If the subject’s alone then no shit there's only one.”

Fukuyo stares at him, actually allowing a small bite of distaste in her smile. “Thank you Utsune, that was both a warranted and wanted correction.”

Sakuchi directs the attention back to Akiyama. “Akiyama, what did you find?”

“Normal infirmary things. Out of date medicine, in date medicine, bed. I'll sleep there.” Straight to the point.

Gae makes a sound like she's choking. “Really?! Areyou sure?!”

Akiyama nods.

“Akiyama, will you be safe?” Sakuchi sounds like a concerned mother.

“Door doesn't lock,” Akiyama shrugs, “I'll do something.”

“Well, if you are certain.” Their words do little to appease Sakuchi, but she seems unwilling to push it further.

Fukuyo moves on quickly. “We should separate the men's rooms and the women's. Any objections?”

Hisakawa looks confused, as though unsure why she would even suggest this. “I mean, if you want to?” He comes to a sudden realisation. “Would that make you feel safer?”

“Then we’re in agreement.” Without another word, Fukuyo turns toward the direction of the infirmary. She regards the group over her shoulder. “We will room by the infirmary, unless, Akiyama, you would prefer otherwise.”

Akiyama grunts.

“I see. We'll meet back here when rooms are coordinated.”

Takahashi looks at Atsuko, who shrugs in return, and follows after Fukuyo. She can hear the resulting footsteps of the rest of the women in the group. Sakuchi’s long stride contrasting with Gae's borderline frantic pace, which breaks through Tsuzuki’s controlled footfalls, all tumbling out of tune to Ito’s springy jog.

There's very little discussion about which room belongs to whom. Fukuyo picks the left room at the very end of the hall, leaving the others to fall into place. It ends up like this: Tsuzuki takes the end room on the right, Gae middle right and Sakuchi at the front right. Fukuyo at the end left, Atsuko in the room next to hers, Ito next and lastly Takahashi in the front most room.

Takahashi claps her hands together. She does that a lot. Atsuko wonders if it's because it's an effective way to grab attention. “Oh! We should mark which room is ours. Motome, are there papers in the storage?”

“I mean, probably?”

“I’LLGOGETTHEM!” Gae's gone before anyone can say otherwise.

Gae appears several minutes later with a single piece of slightly yellowed paper. “Wecanwrite our namesdown!”

“Wonderful. Do you have a pen?” Fukuyo smiles.

Gae freezes. “OhnoI’msuchanidiot IforgOTTHEPENI’MSORRY!!” She's shouting pretty much into Atsuko’s face.

“Chill, it's fine dude.”

Fukuyo agrees. “As Motome says, it's quite alright, I happen to carry one at all times.”

Gae flushes in relief. “Okaythank you!”

Atsuko looks at Fukuyo. “Then why did you ask for one?”

“I was, how do I put it, playing around?” If Sakuchi had an unfortunate sense of humour then Fukuyo’s is somehow astronomically worse.

The paper is quickly torn and divided between the girls, pen passing from hand to hand. Atsuko turns and let's Takahashi use her back as a support, leaning down a little further when Ito eagerly tugs on her shirt. The pressure is enough to irritate her back, and wow, what the fuck is going on with that.

Atsuko turns to her door, and then back down to her paper. How's she gonna... She just kinda, wedges the paper into the space between the door and the wall, and hopes it stays. The other girls are facing a similar problem, Tsuzuki deciding to leave hers on the floor and call it a job well done.

Fukuyo addresses the group. “Let's return. I suspect the others must be done.” She turns to lead the way, but it seems someone's finally had enough of her taking charge.

“Oi Fukuyo.” Tsuzuki barks out, rough like gravel.

Fukuyo barely turns. “Yes?”

Tsuzuki’s posture is tense, voice filled with irritation. “I'm already getting-”

“‘Real fucking sick of you?’” To Tsuzuki’s fire, Fukuyo is a cold winter.

Tsuzuki is so taken off guard, she has no response.

“That is what you were going to say, was it not?” Fukuyo turns to face her.

Tsuzuki still says nothing.

“As I thought. Well Tsuzuki, by all means,” she gestures towards to the group. “Go ahead.”

Tsuzuki recovers slightly, letting out an eloquent “what.”

“Or is it,” Fukuyo’s eyes narrow, smile sharpening at the edges, “-that you have no conviction? Are you all words, Tsuzuki? A woman of false motivation and low goals?”

Atsuko blinks, and shit, that’s uncalled for. She moves a step forwards, raising a hand. “Okay! Maybe chill with all this-”

They both completely ignore her.

Tsuzuki has fully recovered, Fukuyo’s harsh words grinding on her. “Who the fuck do you think-”

“‘I am?’” She still has that smile, her words needled into stinging lashes. “Tell me first Tsuzuki, who do you think you are? A coward, or a performer?”

Tsuzuki’s hand has formed into a tight fist, and finally, at Fukuyo’s question, she swings. Atsuko is only just fast enough, her fingers closing around Tsuzuki’s forearm. While she doesn't exactly condone what Fukuyo is saying, any physical violence in their current situation is a no go. “Alright, enough!”

This snaps the others out of their daze.

Sakuchi nods, exasperation becoming evident as she speaks. “Yes, this has gotten out of hand.”

Ito pouts. “Aaaaw, but look how maaaad Tsuzuzu is. There was totaaaally gonna be a fight.”

Atsuko, still holding Tsuzuki’s forearm,addresses Fukuyo, “Maybe let's stop this here.”

“Oh?” She blinks at her, seemingly oblivious to just how close Tsuzuki's fist was to meeting her face. “Was I becoming too much?”

What a fucking understatement. “A little, yeah.”

“I apologise.”

Atsuko… doesn't know if she believes that. “Huh well, let's uh- hey Sakuchi, do you think you could hang back with Tsuzuki until she's calmed down?”

“Of course.”

Tsuzuki dislodges her arm from Atsuko’s grasp, scowl deepening. “I don't need a fucking babysitter-”

Sakuchi rustles Tsuzuki’s hair. “Hush.”

Fukuyo frowns. “That course of action is inadvisable-”

Oh my god.

Atsuko places a hand on Fukuyo’s shoulder, making direct eye contact. “Enough out of you right now okay? Maybe wait like, five minutes before talking again.” Atsuko begs that the exhaustion she's emitting will be enough to shut her up.

Fukuyo, amazingly, shuts her mouth.

 

 

**\---**

 

 

Itsuki watches as Fukuyo leads the girls down the corridor. At the last second, Gae turns her head, catches his eyes, and waves frantically. He waves back, albeit much more sluggishly. She's calmed down somewhat since they explored together, but he's still worried about her, especially since she's surrounded by strangers. The short two hours together had shown that Gae tends to run her mouth when she's nervous, readily regurgitating anything and everything that flits through her brain without filter.

“Alright! Let's get our rooms sorted then.” Hisakawa’s booming voice is right next to his ear. Itsuki can't muster the energy to feel annoyed by this, because, well, he's never seen the point in wasting time being negative. Bad thoughts and petty emotions inhibit growth. And he can't really explain it, but there's an overwhelming fondness he has inherently for people like Hisakawa. Like a dog, friendly, warm and a bit dumb.

He hears Hiraku agree, and realises that the others have started to move. He makes to follow them, but hesitates. Akiyama's stands idle in the main hall. “Akiyama…” Itsuki takes a moment for his brain to connect to his mouth. They look up, eyes guarded. “Would you…like to come…with us?”

Akiyama just shrugs, and doesn't move. He takes that as a ‘no’.

“You're being left behind.” They’re right, his group having already disappeared into the corridor. There's this look in Akiyama's eyes, one he can't place, one that looks awfully similar to someone else's, but he's forgotten who at the moment.

“Isolation will only make you suffer.” He doesn't know what compels him, the words having sprouted without his knowledge.

Akiyama flinches, but quickly schools it into a scowl, “Like you know anything.” And they're right again, Itsuki barely knows anything; but he thinks, he has a lot of time to do so, because plants are a silent creature.

He shakes his head, and leaves.

When he catches up to the rest of the boys, the rooms have already been picked. Hisakawa smiles sheepishly. “Sorry you can't pick your room.” It's not a big deal, it would have turned out like this either way, and Itsuki has no real preference for which extremely similar room he’ll be barely sleeping in. He's given the second room to the left, between Hisakawa and Hiraku, across from Utsune and Yonamine. Shiori's been placed at the end of the hall, with Rashimoto in the room across. Itsuki wonders how Hiraku even let that happen, he knows how much the guy adores Shiori, and hates Rashimoto. He expresses as much to him.

Hiraku stares at him, before chuckling nervously. “I don't hate Rashimoto? Where's this coming from? And I think ‘adore’ is a bit strong...”

“But you do, and Tsuzuki too right? I know you hate them.” As soon as those words leave them, he pauses. Hiraku's giving him a strange look, and he would be giving himself the same look too, if he could.

“I seriously don't hate anyone, don't think I ever could. I'm sorry if I gave off that vibe though?” Hiraku fiddles with his earrings. “As for Shiori, um…I don't know how to respond. I was just kinda slow picking a room.”

During their strange little conversation, Yonamine had left, and came back holding a thin black marker, a roll of duct tape, and some aging paper. “I was thinking that to make sure we don't mess up we should mark our doors with like a name or something? I mean if you guys don't want to it’s fine but I was just thinking that it's an easy way to make sure we don't accidentally take someone else room-” Hisakawa slaps him on the back, causing him to stumble slightly.

“Let's do that!” He reaches for the paper, “Who wants to go first?” No-one bothers to reply, so he uncaps the pen. “Alright! Me it is.” He writes for a few seconds, although the way he moves his pen doesn't resemble anything close to writing. When he's done, he passes the paper back to Yonamine. Eventually, the paper gets handed to him.

It's…cute. Hisakawa hasn't written his name, but instead has decided to depict himself with a goofy picture instead. The others have followed his example, and Itsuki finds no problem in playing along.

Once the paper's been passed around to them all, Hisakawa takes it back. “These are all really good, I can totally tell who's who.” He rips it carefully into segments, handing them back to the right people. “Alright! Once we put these on our doors, let's go back.” Hisakawa smiles his big smile, and Itsuki finds himself smiling a little harder in response. He hears someone sigh, long-suffering and miserable.

“I'm staying.” It's Utsune, arms crossed, posture tight. “I'd much rather be in my room.” He looks at Hisakawa, whose frowning only slightly. “Or are you going to dictate what I do some more?”

Hisakawa flushes. “Uh, I, well- I'm sorry I made you feel that way, I wasn't trying to- but I'll make sure to be better about it!” Itsuki feels himself frown, and it's a strange feeling, his face unsure of where to settle.

“Utsune…please watch the…words you say.” Utsune’s attention is now on him, so he continues. “You may hurt…someone's feelings.”

Utsune raises an eyebrow, “I really don't think I've said anything out of line. And really, like anything I could say would hurt this guy.” He re-folds his arms, clearly unimpressed. Itsuki doesn't know what to say to that, and Utsune’s face states he doesn't want to be talked to. Itsuki’s been having a lot of dead end conversations it seems, and he has no energy to spare on arguing.

Utsune shuts his door before anyone can say another word. He hears Shiori murmur something, but he can't make it out. Hiraku replies, slightly louder, enough so to make out “-be alright.”

Hisakawa laughs loudly, but it's audibly shaky. “Well, I guess we should go! Utsune's probably just not feeling well.” He leads the charge, passing by Itsuki. Without really thinking about it, he reaches out to touch his arm. Hisakawa looks at him. “Yeah? Need something?”

He shakes his head. “Are you…okay?” He brings his hand back down. “You looked…hurt.”

Hisakawa blinks at him, before throwing his head back with a laugh. “I'm fine, I'm fine. But thanks for worrying!”

Itsuki isn't so sure, but he lets it go for now.

 

 

\---

 

They reunite once again in the main hall. Hisakawa greets them all with an enthusiastic wave.

Shiori glances over the group, a faint frown pulling at his lips. “Uhm? Where is- where's Tsuzuki and, uh…” His eyes widen in panic. “Uhm…Sa...Sachiki?”

Gae lets out a sound of utter confusion.  “BUTI’MSACHIKI!?” She starts patting herself, as though expecting a completely different body. “AM I NOT?! OHGOD!”

Shiori’s eyes widen further, hands flying to lightly rest against his neck. “Oh, ‘m sorry I uh, uhm I-” Atsuko can tell this situation is going downhill very fast. It would be funny if they both weren't so pitiful.

Hiraku taps the back of his hand against Shiori’s shoulder. “It’s okay, no one's expecting you to remember everyone's names right away.” His smile is soft, voice equally so.

Shiori lowers his hands, instead grasping them into his apron. “‘m sorry.”

Shiori isn't the only member whose noticed the missing two “Where…are the…other two?” Wakatsuchi makes a vague gesture towards the girls. Ah.

“Fukuyo and Tsuzuki got into a bit of a shit show so Tsuzuki’s cooling her head.”

Wakatsuchi’s eyes widen slightly at her explanation, and he worries his fingernail with his mouth. She gets it, but the encounter has left her less concerned and more one hundred percent exhausted. And kinda frustrated. Okay, maybe ‘pretty’ frustrated, with a high chance of it becoming ‘incredibly’ frustrated.

“She was soooo maaaad.” Ito slams her fist through the air. “Like POW! Super mad!” She turns to Hisakawa. “POW!” She swings her fist at him, a faux act of violence. He flinches, but doesn't move to defend himself. She hums, long and loud. Hisakawa smiles, a little shaken.

The girls aren’t the only ones missing a person or two. Takahashi claps her hands together, “Oh! Where's Utsune?”

Rashimoto laughs lightly, “In his room, guy's a shut in, obviously. Probably stress crying or some shit.”

Yonamine perks up at his words. “I'll get him some water from the kitchen.” He pauses, considering, and barrels on. “If he's crying he needs water or he'll get a headache, cause dehydration can really hurt.”

Rashimoto quirks his lips, “What, cry often, Yonamine?”

“Yeah, all the time.” The fact Yonamine can say something like that so nonchalantly almost impresses Atsuko, if not slightly worries her.

Hiraku laughs, all sorts of awkward, but cuts off the next remark Rashimoto looks ready to say. “Now that you mention it, I am pretty thirsty.” He grimaces immediately.

Rashimoto grins, “I'll sa-”

“Please. Stop.” Hiraku is, as much as he's trying to hide it, blatantly suffering.

Takahashi smiles wide, but, surprisingly, there's a tired edge to it. “Yes, I think a meal and a bath would be wonderful-”

“I kinda just wanna crash.” She blurts out the words, but they're accurate, and right now, Atsuko’s too tired to regret them.

Takahashi does her best, but it's obvious she deflates a little. “Oh.”

“Sorry, just, today's been shitty and sleep makes everything better so…”

She shakes her head. “No no, I understand.”

Hiraku speaks. “It is getting late. “

Fukuyo moves to check her wrist, frowning when she sees it bare. “I believe I've not seen any type of clock since I've awoken.”

“The cards-” Atsuko yawns, “-don't say either.”

Hisakawa pipes in. “It's probably a little past nine.”

“Morning or evening?”

Atsuko startles, the voice having come from the doorway. “Holy fu- Sakuchi?”

She must hear the unspoken question behind her words. “Tsuzuki's retreated to her room. I believe she is quite stressed.”

Rashimoto snorts.

“It’s night!” Hisakawa answers. “I'm getting kinda sleepy an’ I always sleep around nine so-”

Wakatsuchi frowns slightly. “Nine?”

He nods, drenched in enthusiasm. “Yeah! In bed by nine and awake by eight. You gotta get a good night sleep to be awake an’ alert the next day. But I bet you know that right?”

Wakatsuchi casts his gaze far off. “I…don't sleep until…3 am. And I wake…up at…5 am.”

Hisakawa visibly recoiles. “What?!”

“Some flowers…are nocturnal…and others…need a lot of care. I have…a lot of…plants. So many.”

Gae releases a strangled yelp.”Wakatsuchiyou’re goingto DIE?!

He considers her words. “…Probably.”

Right, as much as Atsuko wants to hear about Wakatsuchi’s abysmal habits, she can't let herself be pulled into any more discussion for the time being. “Yeah okay well I'm checking out, see you when I wake up Takahashi?”

Takahashi smiles. “Of course.

Atsuko retreats, leaving behind the growing chatter of the rest of the group. What she said isn't necessarily a lie, she is tired, the weight of her limbs becoming more and more cumbersome, but it wasn't the complete truth. Atsuko sighs. It's fine, it's not like she could comfortably say “Hey Takahashi I'm blowing off dinner because I'm about this close to a violent breakdown haha.” Absolutely no way.

There's someone behind her, each footstep muted against the floor. She straightens her posture, ready to confront whoever’s following her.

“Akiyama?” She certainly wasn't expecting them.

Akiyama raises an eyebrow. “My room.”

“Huh?” Oh, okay. “You ditching too?”

They shrug. “…it's, too much. Right now.”

“Yeah I get what you mean.”

“…you don't.”

Atsuko stares at them. She's…not sure how to respond to that.

They shrug again. “Nothing. Sleep well Motome.”

“I will? Uh, you too.”

Watching Akiyama retreat is strange. They stop when they reach the infirmary door, turning back to regard Atsuko. “What do you think of Fukuyo?”

“Where's this…? I guess she's controlling? Not really someone I want to hang out with.”

Akiyama’s face tightens, their next words unsettled. “You should…spend time with her.”

“...yeah?”

The conversation ends to the sound of Akiyama shutting their door. Their words leave an itching, disgusting feeling in Atsuko, her veins filling with mud and mucus.

She opens her room door with more force than necessary, and it's then, as she watches her name tag hit the floor that the entire situation registers. There's this stinging rage that strikes her, hot like lightning, without a direction. She channels it into slamming her door shut, the collision sending dust through the air.

Fuck this. _Fuck this._ Everything right now is shit and Atsuko can't fix it. She hates it. Hates the walls, the people, the stupid fucking voice and that dumb glowing screen. The infighting, they haven't even known each other for a couple of hours and there's _infighting_ , can go to hell. There's itching in her skin, her head hurts and her back aches- she's just, god, she's tired.

Atsuko hates getting angry, because she's a crier, frustration dripping from her eyes as she kicks the shitty mattress on the floor of her room.

God, it feels like a stupid tantrum. She attempts to throw herself onto the mattress, and misses, the dead weight of her limbs sending her crashing onto the musty carpet. There's an agonising moment of searing pain that shoots along her spine, snaking its way up to choke out her lungs, all breath eaten away by its maw. She's never felt this level of pain before, and as she thinks that, it's over.  


 

 

_It's red. Dripping above and below._

 

 

_There's red, only red._

 

 

_She can't_

 

_feel_

 

_anything._

  
  
  


She's woken by intrusive knocking - and she's already not in the fucking mood to deal with any of this. The dream was weird and her back aches and even though she's only just woken up, there's a killer headache brewing. Her room's cold and the mattress is wicked solid. Without fully waking, she picks herself from the ground - ground? That didn't seem right - moving to open the door. The knocking is becoming more and more annoying, her brothers are dead as soon as she opens the door, she doesn't even care-

“Okay, what-”

Oh. Right. Of course. She's awake now, the person at the door decidedly not one of her brothers. Any disorientation is gone now, the events before her nap once again clear. Atsuko realises she's cut herself off, and now both her and the guy at her door stand in silence.

“Yonamine?”

Her voice spurs his own into action. “I brought you blankets, water and two cereal bars.” He clumsily tries to give her the cereal bars, but he lets go before she can hold them. They hit the floor with two consecutive thuds.

Atsuko stares at the cereal bars. “Why?”

He bends to pick them up. “You left before we got blankets, and you haven't eaten.” He manages to pick up the cereal bars, but loses his grip on the water bottle. It rolls part way down hall. They both stare at it. Yonamine goes to retrieve it, having not once broken his babbling. In doing so, he seems to forget the existence of the blankets, dumping them to the floor. “Actually I was only going to give you one cereal bar but Utsune was all like ‘I'm not hungry’ which I guess is fair and also I still want to apologise for my behaviour earlier and I know everyone was all ‘no it's totally fine’ but I still feel really bad-”

“Dude just- fucking chill. It's fine, I promise.” She picks up the blankets. They're softer than she expected.

“Really? Okay I just wanted to make sure to apologise because honestly you're kinda scary,” he hands her the water bottle. It's still cold. “-and I don't want you mad at me. But don't just say it's fine if it's not fine because then I'm not learning from my mistak-”

“I promise we're cool.”

“Okay that’s good, thank you, I mean, you really mean it cause-”

“Yonamine, I swear to god-”

“No okay I got it, thank you.” Even though he says as much, he remains standing quietly.

“Please leave.”

He does.

She turns back to her room, arms now loaded. She dumps the blankets - or more precisely, duvet covers - onto her mattress, along with the water bottle. The cereal bars she keeps, stuffing them half desperately into her face, the presence of food making her realise how damn stupid it had been to skip out on an actual meal. She just hopes this place has some rad beans.

Oh fuck. The press.

Atsuko whips her gaze around the room, almost making herself dizzy in the process. She spots the lovely machine, laying neglected next to door. She probably dropped it there during her tantrum. She hurries over to it, cradling it close as she fusses over it.

The machine, predictably, is fine, the carpet having softened the landing. The relief is audible to Atsuko herself. She should get this thing to the kitchen, but most of her wants to keep this little piece of normality, tucked away and hidden safe by her embrace.

Instead she curls up on her mattress and falls into a proper sleep.

 

 

\---

 

 

“Motome! Oh Motome! Wake up! It's morning! I think! Or at least, it's time to wake and face this beautiful day.”

“What the fu- Takahashi?” She pushes herself up from the mattress.

Said girl swings her arms open wide, posing her hands in a farcical gesture, waving her baton wildly, as though casting a spell she has to pretend she knows. “Awaken Motome!”

Atsuko sits up fully on the mattress, using her fingers to untangle the knots in her hair. “I am fucking awake- how are you-”

Takahashi hums. “Your door was unlocked.” She frowns, but it's barely noticeable.”You should be more aware!”

Fuck. “Fuck.”

“Indeed! But come on, wake up so we can eat a good breakfast and take a good bath. I've already gathered the rest of the girls. Most retired after a meal last night, so this is now morning, at least for today.” She gestures towards the door with one hand, offering the other to help Atsuko stand. She accepts the help.

“Didn't ask, but thanks, I guess. And yeah, I stink.”

“I didn't want to be rude, but you do. How about you take a bath while your clothes clean, and you meet us in the dining hall later.”

“I guess.”

Takahashi claps her hands. “Wonderful! Come by when you're ready, I'll wait! Oh! We’ll have breakfast together!” With her plan melting from her lips, Takahashi waltzes from the room. Atsuko sniffs at herself. Fuck she reeks. It's anger sweat too so it's worse.

Honestly she completely forgets about what Takahashi had said at the exploration meeting until she's submerged neck deep in ice cold water, and could this place get any fucking worse. Aside from the… murder thing. That's pretty bad. Actually that's really bad and totally a problem she's not gonna think about right now.

She reunites with Takahashi in the dining hall, half frozen and utterly pissed off. Takahashi shoves a steaming bowl of warm rice at her, slapping her on the back with surprising strength. The pain flares up. The rice makes things a little better

Breakfast is a strange ordeal. It's obvious that no one is quite sure how to conduct themselves. It's surprising to see everyone in the dining hall, given the abstraction of time.

Hisakawa, Wakatsuchi and Gae sit at a table in the middle of the room, engaged in a rather bombastic conversation. Well, Hisakawa and Gae, Wakatsuchi seemingly content to watch it play out. Ito and Yonamine sit close by, occasionally adding to the conversation but mainly keeping to their own.

Fukuyo sits not too far from the group, but not readily inviting others to join her. Akiyama is in a similar way, pushing themselves even further into a corner. Tsuzuki might as well have a sign with the words ‘fuck off' written in neon cursive. Sakuchi has chosen to ignore the figurative warning sign, and oh wow, she's actually taken her mask off to eat. It sits neatly folded next to her bowl. Her face is, pretty standard.

Takahashi interrupts this revelation. “Oh! That's right, I need to tell you. You slept for quite a while, and we came up with a bunch of rules- check your ID, I still can't believe we convinced it.”

Atsuko pulls out her ID, and is met with surprise as a new additional icon greets her.

“Rules! It may seem strange to be excited, but Fukuyo made a fair argument.”

Atsuko nods, selecting the app.

 

**|| - > You may sleep when you wish. **

**- > If you awaken first you must wake all others**

**- > Attending breakfast is mandatory ||**

 

These rules were…what were these? They seem a little arbitrary, to Atsuko. Takahashi must see the confusion.

“Fukuyo wanted to implement a way to keep track of, well, days, I suppose, and this was deemed the easiest.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You woke up first?”

“Oh no, absolutely not!” She laughs, like Atsuko just asked something so absurdly unprecedented. “No, Wakatsuchi woke me, and then left me to take care of the rest.”

“Why you?”

“She’s…the first…room. It says...on the map.”

“Ah, hey Wakatsuchi.” Atsuko only slightly startles.

Wakatsuchi just smiles back idly.

He's wandered over, plates in hand. Atsuko leaves him to it, checking her map. Sure enough, it's been updated, names now plainly displayed over the once empty spaces.

Takahashi pulls her attention back. She's holding two mugs, stained and chipped, holding one out for Atsuko. “There's coffee. It's instant though.”

“Oh shit, hit me up.”

“Really? You don't care it's instant?”

“Nah, coffee is coffee. Wait- Is it decaf- actually, how old is it?”

“Uhm- I'm not too sure, it was in a jar. Do you want decaf?”

“I would rather die.”

“That's rather extreme.”

“Would you stay at home and listen to a crap CD or go see the live shit.”

“Motome, I know what you're trying to say, but it's not nearly as eloquent as you might want it to be.”

“Just give me the coffee.”

It's alright. Really stale, but not the worst. The water to coffee ratio is way off though, so it's still grainy, and just kinda lacking. Takahashi definitely doesn't make coffee a lot. Atsuko returns to scanning over the room.

Utsune sits by himself, not really doing anything. He has a mug still half-full, but there's no interest in his face to finish it.

Hiraku and Shiori are seated at the counter, Rashimoto several seats down from them. Shiori seems to be thinking hard about something, and he turns to better look at Hiraku.

He says something, but Atsuko can't hear his quiet voice from where she's sitting.

Whatever was said makes Hiraku inhale his coffee. Shiori tries his best to help him, but his back pats are too light to really do anything. Hiraku smiles at him anyway. “Thanks, I’m alright”

He takes another sip of coffee, attempting to recompose himself, and Atsuko watches as Rashimoto, who had silently slipped from his seat at the counter, rears up, and, with a shit ton of force, slams his open palm into Hiraku's back.

She turns her attention back to Takahashi. “What're we doing today?”

“I'm going to talk to people.

“About…what?

“I don't know.”

“For the entire day?”

“Yes!”

“...Shit, count me in I guess.” It's not like she could do anything else. Besides, like, murder someone. Which is, not really an immediate activity she would like to participate in. “Wanna talk first then?”

“Actually, we should reconvene at the end of the day, and recount the day to each other. Oh! And then I can tell you more about myself! Did you know that I'm actually the result of-”

“Okay maybe let's save that for later.”

“Oh yes, of course!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so starts Free Time. Feel free to request whoever or we'll just roll a dice or something lol. Also, why a perspective change, lol I wonder :). Anyway next update should be quicker then like, whoops, several months. It'll probably consist of just free time events which are mostly all written out.


	3. Chapter One: Live and Let Die: The First Free Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been like a month, anyway, here's the first set of fte's! They were picked at random! Enjoy this first look into some of the characters, they're kinda short, but next chapter will be longer.
> 
> also you'll notice the art looks different from the first chapter, as well as the second, and that's because all that art was drawn about six months ago, while this chapters art was drawn this month! Most of next chapters art will be from that six month dead period this fic had, but after that, all the art will be new.

##  **×~~ Free Time: Start ~~×**

 

Akiyama is the first victim of this Takahashi-inspired activity. Atsuko all but corners them after breakfast, throwing herself casually into the chair across from them.

“Motome?” Akiyama's voice doesn't give much away, but they push their chair back, physically increasing the distance between them.

“Wanna hang out or some shit?”

“So you can kill me?”

Atsuko scoffs, before she realises Akiyama looks deadly serious. “What? No.”

“A joke.” Akiyama looks off to the side, inclines their head slightly. “Fine.”

“Cool.”

They watch as a few of the other students filter out of the kitchen. Atsuko sees that Takahashi has attached herself like a limpet to Utsune as he tries to make for the exit. Atsuko glances over at Akiyama, whose face is set in a light grimace. They make brief eye contact, and she takes the opportunity to speak.

“How’s it going?”

Akiyama shifts an eyebrow. “Great.”

“Cool. A lie, but cool.”

They roll their eyes.

Atsuko searches her mind for any type of non sequitur to distract from her poor social skills. “What’s like… family? Do you have any family?”

They just stare at her.

Fucking, of course they have family- but Atsuko’s dug herself this hole, so she plows on. “I have my parents and two brothers- younger, twins too. Real shitheads, but they’re like thirteen so it’s whatever.”

Akiyama sighs, glancing off to the side for a brief moment. They raise three fingers. “I’m a triplet.”

Woah what. “I’ve never met a triplet before.”

Akiyama doesn’t respond, mouth set in a flat line.

“So are-” Atsuko starts running her mouth, like she tends to do when she’s uncomfortable. “Are your siblings, like you? or-”

“Motome.”

Ah shit. “Fuck, I just meant-”

“I know what you meant.” Akiyama rolls their eyes. They sigh, pinching the bridge of their noise in annoyance. “Fucking Hope's Peak.”

Atsuko inclines her head forward, raising an eyebrow. She hadn't even thought Akiyama could express an emotion beyond inconvenienced apathy. “You got a problem?”

Akiyama narrows their eyes. “You content with being told who you are? If so, you're less than I already thought you were.”

Atsuko can feel the incredulity snap across her features. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Motome, do you-” Akiyama interrupts. They stay silent for a moment, and then shake their head. “No, you wouldn't. Stupid.” They stand from their chair.

“Huh?” The sudden movement jolts Atsuko from her growing anger.

“I’m, unsure.” Akiyama doesn’t look at her. They shake their head again, placing their hands in their hoodie pocket. “It's nothing.”

And before Atsuko can respond, Akiyama leaves.

**\----**

She's unsettled, and maybe that's what causes her to target Rashimoto next, the dude’s still hanging around the dining hall. All he's doing is staring into space, so she doesn't feel too bad interrupting him. She takes a seat next to him at the counter. “What are you doing?”

“Hiraku’s so full of shit, don't you think?”

Talk about a non sequitur.

“You've known him for like a day?”

Rashimoto laughs. “I can tell a big fat phoney when I see ‘em.” He turns to her. “What’d you want anyway?”

“I thought we could hang out?” Atsuko shrugs.

He leans back on his chair, Atsuko fears for a slight moment that he might tip over. “And here I thought you didn't like me.”

“I'm bad at making first impressions.”

“You and like, everyone else here.” He laughs again. “I mean, Aina? Total bitch.”

“Tsuzuki? A little, yeah.”

“Thank you!” Rashimoto suddenly tips his chair forwards, bracing his arms against the counter. “God, it's so annoying, isn't it? Everyone's always like-” He imitates a high falsetto “-‘oh give people a chance’ or-” He pitches his voice low. “-‘never judge a book by it's cover’ but really-” He returns to his normal voice. “-if someone isn't gonna put in effort to make themselves likable, I say leave ‘em to die alone.”

“That's kinda harsh.”

His face scrunches in distaste. “What, so you wanna waste time and effort into a person that doesn't give anything back?” He settles back into his chair properly. “Being too selfless is an irritating trait.”

“I wouldn't call myself selfless.”

“Well, yeah, you’d call yourself Atsuko.”

“Shut up.” She shoves his shoulder.

He laughs.

Atsuko ejects herself from the conversation. He calls out as she leaves.

“Guess you gotta Atsu-go!”

**\----**

Gae all but trips into her arms as she rounds the corner of the girls’ corridor. Atsuko almost has a heart attack, and Gae looks like she is having one.

“I’M SORRY DONTKILLME!!”

Oh god.

“It's fine.” She holds her arms up in what she hopes is a non-threatening manner. She can't tell if Gae gets the gesture or not. “Were you going anywhere?”

“NO!” Gae shakes her head frantically, snapping it so wildly back and forth Atsuko’s own neck winces in phantom pain.

“Did you want to hang out then?”

Gae stares at her, bug eyes, mouth agape. It's like her brain’s stopped processing anything, overloaded with anxiety.

“Or not?” Atsuko steps backward.

“NO!” Gae moves with an agility Atsuko didn't think the girl was capable of, snaking her fingers around Atsuko's wrist. “NO! IWANTTO!”

“Oh cool.” She tries to tug her wrist out of Gae's surprisingly iron grip. It doesn't work, so she just leaves it be. “Let's go to the main hall?”

Gae nods, and without prompting, leads the way around the corner.

There's a few other students lingering about, but Gae ignores them and leads Atsuko to a set of dusty armchairs pushed into the far corner of the room.

Gae takes a seat, leaving Atsuko to stand awkwardly.

“Gae, my wrist?”

Gae looks at her, alarm in her eyes. She lets go, like Atsuko's skin has grown needles.

Atsuko takes a seat on one of the dusty armchairs. It spews dust. She grimaces.

“This place is a fucking mess, huh.”

Gae does her best imitation of a statue. Atsuko, realising just how difficult this is going to be, tries a different approach.

“I'm not gonna like, kill you, you know.”

Gae blinks.

“I mean” Atsuko continues. “I'm not gonna like, break your spine in two, or crush the cartilage in your ears, or eat your fingernails or anything you might be thinking?”

Gae keels over and starts shaking again.

“Shit sorry- I just meant- are you laughing at me?”

And she is. Instead of being on the verge of tears, she's attempting to smother her voice with her hands.

“Oi, Gae-”

“I'm-” she tries to speak through her laughter, but she just chokes over her words instead. “I'm sorry.” She definitely doesn't sound it.

****

“It's just- just you sound- like you have no clue!” She can barely make the words out.

After the laughter continues for several more seconds, Atsuko's had enough, standing up. “Fuck it.”

Gae can't respond, for some reason Atsuko's words spurring her on even more.

She can still hear her laughter down the hallway.

\---

She's sitting with Takahashi in the dining hall, shovelling plain rice into her mouth.

“-and then she just started laughing at me!”

Takahashi hums, amusement peeking across her features. “Akiyama, Gae and… Rashimoto. Quite the selection, I must say.”

“Like Utsune, Yonamine and Tsuzuki is any better.”

Takahashi laughs, “I much prefer them over Rashimoto.” It's said as an afterthought.

“What, you don't like him? “

She's surprised, eyes wide, as she shakes her head. “Oh, no, no, I don't mean- well that is to say-”

“It's cool, you don't have to like everyone Takahashi.”

There's another perplexing look that crosses her face. She's considering Atsuko’s words, nodding in contemplation. “Yes, I don't like him.”

She pauses for another moment, considering her next words with a carefulness she seemingly rarely exhibits.

“It’s a shame. I’d love to get along with all our fellow Ultimates. Rashimoto and I, as performing artists, ought to have a lot in common. Unfortunately, he’s afflicted with the one personality type I am intrinsically averse to.”

“No shit? What's it?”

Takahashi hums, mouth pulled into a faux serious line. “Hmmm, what’s an appropriate epithet? How about…” She smiles, eyes alight with a warm mirth. “The Conniving Bastard.”

Atsuko snorts, inhaling her rice. Takahashi hands her handkerchief over, Atsuko taking it. It's a cream colour, with little rainbow music notes embroidered in the corners. It's cute. Takahashi continues.

“It’s the nature of my profession to work with a large, diverse group of personalities. And being musicians, often difficult, idiosyncratic personalities. So I’ve learnt to appreciate all sorts of people. It’s just that-” Atsuko hands her back her handkerchief. “- that deceptive, manipulative people like him? I can’t find compatibility with them no matter how much I try to re-harmonise myself.” She shrugs, an uncharacteristically subdued action. “After spending my life traveling the world with eighty-plus musicians, I’ve had to accept that people just function under different rules.”  
  
Atsuko isn't quite sure about Takahashi's evaluation of Rashimoto. But she lets it be. “Fuck, eighty? Shit, no wonder you’re so… bombastic.”  
  
Takahashi throws her head back, letting her laughter echo across the room. “The largest symphonies can sometimes involve over a hundred!”  
  
“How’d you even start that shit anyway?”  
  
Takahashi claps her hands together. “Well, for most of my childhood, my mother and I lived in the old building of a closed-down music school.”  
  
“Squatting?”  
  
“Basically, yes.”

“Shit man.”

Takahashi just smiles. “Us, and a whole little community of people with nowhere else to go. A great number of them were children like me, and the academy was our playground. The old records and instruments were our toys, the texts and manuscripts our storybooks. So we learnt to play, and those children ended up forming the majority of what is now my orchestra.”  
  
“You’re self-taught?”  
  
“I was at first.” She frowns, eyes hardening. “Until my father discovered me and took it upon himself to get me properly educated. No doubt he thought he could use my skills to his benefit.” She lets out a long measured breath. An underlying bitterness coats her next words. “Yes, he’s certainly another one.”  
  
“Another…?”  
  
She gives a grim smile. “Conniving bastard.”

 

\----

She waves good night to Takahashi, and enters her room, making sure to click the lock into place. She sits on the mattress, taking in the stained ceiling. She thinks, that if the rest of the days are like this, then maybe everything will be alright.

With that uneasy consideration, she lets sleep take her.

##  **×~~ End of Free Time ~~×**

Atsuko awakes to possibly the worst sound in her life. The monitor is screaming static, the ear bleeding sound crashes through the silence like a tidal wave. The voice is back.

****_**“Are you fucking kidding me? Are you ultimates so stupid you can't even kill someone right? Seriously? You've really pushed my hand by being so boring and stupid and dumb idiots. I didn't even want to do this but you're making me! This is your fault okay? Remember that before you all start bitching. Get your asses back in the basement. And you all better be there.”**  
_

Holy shit that sounds alarming. Atsuko pushes herself from her bed, and without much delay, exits her room.

Takahashi is waiting for her at the end of the hallway. “I don't like how this sounds.” She waves her hands through the air frantically, anxiety riddled within her voice.

“Yeah.” Atsuko nods, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Yeah this seems bad.”

Takahashi hums. “Yes, let's hurry.”

Without any moment more for hesitation, they steel themselves, and trace the path to the basement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my co-author, they wrote Takahashi's dialogue for her free times! She definitely sounds more natural in their voice. Anyway, next chapter will be up soon, just editing and adding to some parts.


	4. Chapter One: Live and Let Die: A Motivation

It's the same as they left it. The lights are off still, a major inconvenience, with only the outside light to illuminate the area. They're the first to arrive, somehow, and have to wait as the rest of the group floods in. Hisakawa leads them, an apprehensive smile across his face. Ito bounces past him, pulling Yonamine along by his sleeve.

The lights flicker on, illuminating the room like a faux stage, to display the aggrieved actors. There are envelopes dumped carelessly into a pile on the basement floor. It's the first thing Atsuko notices, and is also the only thing to notice.

The screen switches on, static creating a ringing white noise.

**_“Those envelopes are yours. Open them and I'll explain.”_ **

Atsuko can see, in the pile, her name scrawled thoughtlessly across the envelope. She's the first to move, grabbing both hers, and with hesitation, Takahashi's envelope, passing it to her. She takes it with an uneasy smile. In her peripheral, she can see others start to do the same.

There's a heaviness in her chest, using its sticky fingers to spread nausea inside her organs. Atsuko opens her envelope.

It's…a photo. One she remembers rather well, because there's a copy framed on her kitchen wall. It had been taken for her mother, one particularly long business trip. She remembers how hard it had been to keep her brothers attention long enough for the photo to come out decent. Constant distraction and hyperactive energy.

How the hell had a copy gotten here?

She flips the photo over, her blood freezing solid in her veins. The sticky fingers tap gleeful across her skin.

It isn't a copy.

Immediately, Atsuko's mind kicks into overdrive. Somehow, somehow- this is the original photo. Whoever was keeping her here had gotten the real photo, sappy messages and all, when it should be tucked away in her mother's purse somewhere in the middle of Europe.

She can feel something else in the envelope, not heavy, but noticeable. She takes the object out. It's a pair of necklaces. Her brother has a habit of making them. He made her bracelet. He made the pair for himself and his brother.

If there was any doubt residing, it's gone now, the crude initials carved into stone like a punch through the gut.

She looks up, taking in the expressions of her classmates. There's panic in some, confusion in others, but the unease is evident in all.

**_“Well? Any guesses?”_ ** The words are met with tense silence, none daring to utter a reply.

She's genuinely taken aback when Hiraku speaks first. “It's, just a photo of-” He shrugs, apologetic. “-Sorry, I don't know what to say.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but yeah,” Rashimoto waves his photograph lazily. “I have no clue who the chick in my photo is.”

Utsune frowns, his hold delicate on his own photo. “Really?”

Rashimoto shrugs. “I mean, I guess she's a fan? And I'm in the photo.” He laughs lightly, too carefree. “But beyond that, pretty much no clue.”

Tsuzuki snatches the photo from him. Rashimoto stares at the empty space.

“What the fuck.”

“Are you stupid?” Tsuzuki scoffs at him. “That's your first girlfriend, shitiot.”

His face tightens, carefree smile twisting like a snake around its prey. “Look bitch, I would recogn-” He snatches the photo back, taking a longer look as he speaks. “-Oh, huh, yeah, it is.”

“Honestly.” She turns back to her own photo, brow furrowed.

“Woah, wait.” Hisakawa blinks, caught up in the exchange. His photo hangs loosely between his fingertips. “How do you know that, Tsuzuki?”

“That's none of your fucking business.” She spits back, arms crossing in a manner screaming ‘fuck off.’

Hisakawa looks like he wants to argue, but before he can voice his concerns, the static interrupts.

**_“I'll kill them.”_ **

The words, said so callously, are shattering. To Atsuko, to everyone. Like one's whole reality is but an illusion, held in suspension by your own belief, and nothing else. Atsuko can barely breathe. Atlas, arms broken, has released his burden, and now the world's free falling.

“I can't believe I seriously dated this chick. She's like, a solid four, maybe.” Rashimoto continues, like the static never spoke. Tsuzuki snaps her head in his direction. Gae's high pitched whine overrides the room, cancelling out coherent thought. Sakuchi places her photo against her chest. She's trembling.

Out of the corner of her eye, Atsuko can see Hiraku move slightly. Wait- is he- he is. She turns her full attention to him, and confirms he is, indeed, subtly shredding his photograph between his fingers. He glances up, and they make eye contact. He immediately breaks it, face paling, ashamed, as he stuffs the pieces into his jean pocket. She can't process what such an action means.

Almost subconsciously, as though wired to, Atsuko’s eyes land on Fukuyo. And it's, strange, her expression, because she's visually affected. Eyebrows drawn, dark eyes shuttering, mouth tense. Her grip on the photo is tight, so much so Atsuko fears she'll tear the paper. Even so, she speaks, her voice as calm as ever. “How do we know you're serious.” It's almost magical, how suddenly that voice clears Atsuko's mind of fog.

She could listen forever.

What a strange thought.

**_“I was hoping you'd say that.”_ ** the voice crackles with barely subdued glee.

The image on the monitor shifts, cutting them into darkness for a brief moment. Atsuko would gladly have stayed in that darkness, because the image that replaces it drops her heart to her stomach.

He has brown hair, slicked back with an almost excessive amount of hair gel. His suit, rich in colour and expense, is in such a state of disarray it seems almost intentional. He's blindfolded. And bound.

Atsuko has no idea who the man tied to the chair is, but it's apparent someone does.

“Father?” Yonamine’s voice cracks before he finishes the word, a barely audible whisper. Somehow, it's overpowering.

Oh shit. Holy shit. Atsuko absolutely does not like where this is going.

From the shadows of whatever room Yonamine’s father is being kept in, a figure shifts, flowing with the grace of a dancer. She can't make out anything else about it, only enraptured by its elegant almost-dance. Outside movies, this kind of thing doesn't happen.

There's a painfully loud sound sent through the crackling speakers of the monitor. It sounds like a firework. The room’s a mess.

Atsuko’s never seen someone die, really die, before.

She has now.

Gae starts crying. It's startlingly loud, but so is everything about her. Sakuchi rubs her back, but her eyes are glassy, face pinched. Even Hisakawa, for all his bright words and smiles, is at a loss, the only thing he can do is wrap his arms around Yonamine, and stroke his hair as the boy breaks down.

**_“Aw, is the poor little Hypocrite gonna cry? Gonna weep like a weak baby? ‘Oh no Daddy, I'm so dumb, I can't do anything, I'm just the worst.’ Kill yourself already becau-”_ **

Wakatsuchi, of all people, is the one who cuts in, with unusual clarity. “What do you want.”

The voice shows no hint of caring that it's unable to finish its harsh tirade. **_“Finally! If you had just played along earlier I wouldn't have to do this. One of you must kill another. I don't care who, once you do I won't have to do this again.”_ **

Atsuko finds it within herself to address the monitor. “How long do we have?”

**_“That's the funny thing- when I get bored of this lovey-dovey hang out crap. And I'm already real bored. Sooner rather than later, if you please.”_ **

\---

Itsuki doesn't let himself be angry. It's not his place, not his loss; to try and make it his own would be an unbelievable arrogance. He's sad though, that he can let himself be; it's not a crime to care for another.

He supposes the photos are a simple way to get in their heads, the corruption of a happy memory through fear and anger. The want for a loved one to be safe is an extremely strong motivator, albeit crude. That, or photos are enough. A warning that says ‘I know about them, I can hurt them.’ A statement backed fully by the unnecessary taking of Yonamine’s father.

Itsuki’s envelope contains another item, its presence solid in his hand. Dyed green leather and a silver-coloured name tag. A threat to his beloved companion.

Yes. How very cruel indeed.

The static cuts, leaving them all within this suffocating atmosphere. No one speaks, anger and fear a dreadful concoction of mistrust.

Itsuki feels, indescribable.

 

\---

 

Hold it together. Keep it down. Stay calm.

Breath.

Don't let anyone else die.

 

\---

 

_Father's dead. Father's dead. Father's dead. Dead dead dead._

That's all he can think about. The thick stench of blood that permeates every pore in his skin. But that isn't right. Just beyond the screen, a movie? He wants to think so. Wait, where's the script, is he really meant to be here? An extra, that's all, maybe? He can't tell. His father's face. It's laughing. No. He's crying in fear. Who's crying? He can't tell. Wait- wait- he can't breathe. Oh god, he's just like his father, his brains spread out across the floor, strawberry jam.

He likes apricot better.

 

\----

 

Fucking delusional, it's all a dream. A fucked up nightmare, more so than usual. She's waiting, for him to turn and laugh, sneer torn across his face. She's waiting for him to tremble, beg for forgiveness, but god, she's already forgiven him, was never angry. That voice from the screen, she's never heard it before, she doesn't recognise people around her, but that can't be. Dreams can't create people.

She wants to be alone.

She doesn't.

She tries to anyway.

Fuck, does she try.

 

\----

 

Is this- unease? Of course, it would be ignorant to believe otherwise. A lie- of course not. There's not a single contradiction to exploit. The dead man be damned, but she is no dead man.

How arrogant, that damned voice. The odds are stacked against her, but she's been here before, all she needs to do is push back harder. She's ready, her teeth eager to sink into its weaknesses. She'll devour her victory.

Overconfident? No.

And if a murder surely occurs?

It better be a good one.

 

\---

 

There's a weight off his shoulders, his brain feels lobotomised, he's unbelievably happy. That fucking worthless bitch. Gone forever. He hopes her grave is a shallow one. He hopes feral dogs find her first, before she's fully dead. Rip her apart. Let her feel it, every agonising moment. He bites back a grin. Laughter bubbles, clawing up the inside of his throat.

Finally.

These bastards better not fuck it up.

 

\---

 

Atsuko doesn't remember much of the aftermath of the Voice's declaration, her mind filled with a thick haze. She knows she's in the main hall, curled over herself, teeth gritted so tense they feel ready to shatter apart. The photograph is gripped tight in her clenched hands. Her brothers smile up at her, filled with a mirth that slowly morphs to mocking the longer she stares.

Shit. She grits her teeth. She wants to rip apart the photo. Make it bleed. But she can't, it's not possible. Maybe she'll find something, anything else, beat it until the skin splits apart and it stops moving. But she can't. Not now. Maybe later. Yeah, later, she'll shred the photo like thin flesh, crumbled paper in water, bones chipped, aged and mouldy-

-She thinks about her dad's tired smile. Sat on the curb of the hospital, having just apologised to the family. Her brother still adamant he did nothing wrong. _Please Atsuko, if not for me, then for them. He learnt this from you. Try a little._

She exhales, folding the photo carefully into her shirt pocket.

She needs to calm down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up a bit quicker, some more free times! I kinda picked forever at this chapter, but finally decided to post it! Thanks again to my co-writer! I hope the alternating perspective changes aren't too jarring, but it's really fun to switch around with characters, and really that's what this fic is about! Having fun that is. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter One: Live and Let Die: Daily Life: 2nd Free Time Sequence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! An update that didn't take over a month to appear! It's a short one, a couple of free times. Enjoy!

##  **×~~ Free Time ~~×**

 

She goes to her first, hoping at least that she'll be able to lift her attitude. Even just by a little.

“Takahashi, I wanna ask-”

“My photo, correct?” She flicks it out from her dress pocket and flips it around. It displays a large assortment of people, with a younger Takahashi right there in the middle, beaming. “My orchestra. Aren’t we cute? If only the circumstances weren’t so…” Her smile falters a little _. “_ Ominous.”

“Orchestra, so not your family, huh?” Atsuko lifts her hand to her shirt pocket, feeling the folded edge of the photograph.

She gives an amused smile. “This _is_ my family. An ineffably large, cacophonous family.” She pauses. “Well, I do have my mother of course. I can only hope her absence from this blackmail material means that she’s safe.”  
  
Atsuko thinks about her own parents. That's a nice line of logic, but the presence of the photo is enough to cast doubt. At least maybe her dad might be okay. Speaking of. “And your… conniving bastard father?”  
  
Takahashi laughs. “I’m sure he’s fine. He always takes good care of himself.”

“You said he took you in.” It's hard to imagine someone hating their own father, her own is so nice, like jasmine tea after getting caught in the rain.  
  
Takahashi nods. “When I was around ten, our little group of renegade musicians had started getting public attention. Busking and so on. He saw me and must have realised who I was. So he brought me to live in his household and get proper training - setting up performances and private tutors and introductions and that sort of thing.” She frowns. “It was an extravagant lifestyle but also the most miserable time of my life. And I didn’t even have my friends or my mother to confide in.”  
  
“Shit, he didn’t bring your mother with you?” It's a strange reflection of her own mother, off somewhere, but still loving.  
  
Takahashi laughs again, fluent in bitterness. “Goodness no. With a respectable wife and children already there? He could never abide a scandal like that! Officially I wasn’t even his daughter. I was the poor, unfortunate child of some dead relative, who he had taken in through the kindness of his heart. The damage it would do to his reputation if anybody ever found out he’d had an affair with my mother and then abandoned her the second she got pregnant.”  
  
“That’s fucked. Your mother, did she know?” She lets herself sink into the conversation.  
  
“That he was married at the time? No. He lied to her then, he lied to her when he came to take me in, he lied to his wife about who I was. The man breathes lies like oxygen, and he infected his family with them.”

“I’m guessing you don't get on with your siblings.”  
  
“They didn’t even get along with each other!” Takahashi throws her hands up. “It was a household built on distrust. Mind games, backstabbing, constantly climbing over each other to be on top. I couldn’t stand it. When I finally completed my training and went back to my orchestra, I went through every bit of red tape to disconnect myself from his name, to prevent him from getting his hands on my family and using them as his tools.”  
  
“No shit. I bet he was pissed yeah?”  
  
“Oh, absolutely. But he can no longer do a thing. The orchestra belongs to itself. Once we became successful enough we made sure to buy the old school building and fix it up. So everyone can live safe, comfortable lives there without worry. Those musicians are the most precious people to me in the world - all of them, the ones I’ve known all my life, the ones who joined later on… I love them all dearly, every single one.”  
  
“Shit man, we won't be here forever.” Even she can hear how pathetic her words sound.  
_  
_ Takahashi smiles. “I hope… for the right reason.”

With those ominous as shit words, Takahashi shakes her head. “Never mind, I am simply being pessimistic. Motome, are you feeling better?”

Atsuko thinks for a moment. “I won't lie, I sure as shit don't feel great. But, I guess it's not as bad as before.”

Takahashi laughs. “I'll take it.”

Atsuko thinks for a moment. “Hey actually, did you see Hiraku anywhere? I needa talk to him about something.”

She hums. “I think… hmm. I'm not too sure.”

“Shit okay. I'm gonna go look then.”

“Good luck!”

\---

She finds Hiraku sitting with Shiori amongst the boxes of the Storage Room. Shiori has a painful looking hold on his photograph, along with an old looking floral patterned piece of fabric slung around his shoulders. He's shaking fiercely. Atsuko feels uncomfortable, but she wants to ask Hiraku about earlier.

“Hey.” The boys turn their heads in her direction. For a moment, she can see an indescribable emotion cloud Hiraku's eyes, but it's gone too quickly. “Hiraku, I need to talk to you.”

“No.”

She's taken aback by his abrupt attitude. She's not really sure how to proceed, mouth still slightly open.

Shiori shakes his head, pulling the cloth tighter around his shoulders. “It's fine.”

Hiraku gives him a long look. “But-”

Shiori shakes his head harder. “I'm fine.” he buries his face into the cloth.

“Okay.” Hiraku sighs, standing up. He turns to Atsuko, gesturing for her to follow him. “I have feeling I know what you want to ask.”

She follows him out into the hallway. He shuts the door, leaning against it. She takes this opportunity to open her mouth, but he interrupts her. His voice is low, so as not to be overheard, even though the hallway is barren of intruders.

“It's not your business. It's mine.”

Atsuko stares at him. Her feet want to move, a classic flight response. Her fists clench, fingernails digging into her palm. She bites her tongue to stop from baring teeth, she's not a fucking animal. But she sure feels like one.

Hiraku sighs, running a hand through his hair. And just like that, the tension is cut, limp as an abandoned puppet. “Sorry, that was aggressive. I just mean that I don't feel comfortable talking about stuff with someone I barely know, y’know?” The casual smile is back on his lips, voice now at a regular level.

Atsuko nods. Her nerves are aflame.

He laughs softly. “Sorry, again. Look, I need to get back to Shiori, okay? He's not handling this too well.”

She doesn't respond.

He stands up from his slouch against the door, opening it casually. “See ya.” He throws a wave over his shoulder.

The door closes and Atsuko is left alone in the hallway.

She exhales

What the fuuuuuck.

\---

A quick pitterpatter of feet is all the warning she has.

“Mototoooo!”

Atsuko gasps as a slight weight rams itself into her side. She curbs her reflexes, grabbing onto Ito instead of pushing her away. Ito's feet are off the ground. Ito blinks, and then starts laughing.

“What the shit Ito!” She steadies Ito back onto her feet.

“Hahaha, you're stuuurdy Mototo!” She adjusts her bags, not faltering in the slightest. “Hahaha, you look rattled, do you really care about your hostage thaaaat much?”

“Yeah, I do. You don't seem concerned at all though.”

“Hmmmm. That's because I'm not.” She smiles. “If Officer M. dies then thaaaat's on him.”

“Shit Ito.”

“It's okay, I don't think he'll aaaactually die. Naaaah, one of us’ll die first.”

“Shit, tell me what you really think.”

Ito laughs. She suddenly stops, slamming her hand into the bag slung over her her left shoulder. She rummages for a moment. She's wearing a grave expression, but it's broken by her tongue poking from her mouth. “Ooooh, there it is.” she pulls out a purple marble. It has a thin crack lightning struck through its glass. She tosses to Atsuko. She goes back to rummaging.

“Ito, what?”

“That one's Officer M.” She tosses another marble at Atsuko. It's like a sunset, a watercolour mix of warmth. “That's Mimi.” Two more marbles follow quickly. They look strange, it's like they've been burnt with a lighter, the insides ashen. “That's Mama and Papa.”

“Uh.” She inspects the marbles a little harder. “Not actually, right?”

“Mototo you're soooo silly!”

“Thank shit.”

“Mama and Papa are the only one with ashes in them.”

Atsuko has to stop herself from reflexively dropping the marbles. “You keep your parents’ ashes in marbles?!” Oh wait shit. “-Uh, sorry for your loss? Wait these are important right, here.” She unceremoniously tries to push the marbles back into Ito's hands. “The other two, are they dead too?”

“No silly!”

“Right. So that's really your parents ashes?” Please say no.

“Of course! Pretty right?”

“So how'd they kick it? -if you don't mind telling me, how they died, that is.” Fucking fantastic Atsuko, just keep saying dumb shit.

“Fwoooosh!” Ito throws her arms up into the air.

“Okay?” She didn't really get it, but at least Ito wasn't insulted.

“Now I stay with Lady T., Sir Y. and Mimi! Mimi's reeeeally funny. My bestest ever! Mimi's marble is so pretty!”

“I guess?”

“Hey Mototo! If you were a doll, what would you want to be.”

“Uh.”

“I think that Mototo would be plastic.”

“Thank you?” Was that an insult? What.

“And! And! Takahashi would be a puppet, probably porcelain, one with strings! And Shishi would be a stuffed one, but without the stuffing, because no one loved it enough to sew up holes! And then Fukuyo would be those old ones with wooden limbs that get stuck on shelves and whose boxes are never open! And Tsuzuzu, uuuuuhm, well I don't think she'd be a doll, so let's forget about her-”

Atsuko let Ito ramble for several more minutes, about this and that.

“-and so when you wanna get rid of the grooooss rotten stuff-”

“Okay Ito I'm getting uninterested in this conversation.”

Ito gasped, mouth and eyes comically wide. “Mototo! Soooo rude!”

“It's getting late.”

“Okay, fiiiine.

She escorts Ito to her room, then enters her own. Or, at least, attempts to.

 

##  **×~~ Free Time: END ~~×**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my co-author for Takahashi's dialogue!
> 
> Bit of an abrupt ending, but things are finally gonna kickstart soon I promise!


	6. Chapter One: Live and Let Die: A Terse Situation, A Horrifying Reality

She feels something light touch the back of her arm.

“Motome...”

She snaps her head in the direction of the voice. “Wakatsuchi, shit man.” He has his arm still slightly outstretched, face neutrally blank, like most times.

“Fukuyo... has called a meeting. She wants us… all in the hall.”

“Uh.” She casts a glance at her room.

“As she said… ‘attendance is mandatory'.” He smiles slightly, a lazy, sloth-like thing. He's not leaving until she follows, are what his eyes say.

“Ah, fuck, okay. I'll be there. When is it.”

His smile deepens into something more. “Now.”

 

\---

 

Fukuyo stands straight, arms behind her back. To her right is Utsune, mouth pressed taut, multi-coloured eyes narrowed in a concoction of unease and irritation. Rashimoto is sprawling lazily across the dusty lounge, which had been at one point pushed into the middle of the Hall. 

“Ah, Wakatsuchi, Motome, I see you've finally joined us.”

Atsuko looks around at the room. Tsuzuki and Yonamine aren’t present. She casts a look at Wakatsuchi. He shrugs as politely as one can. “Right.”

Fukuyo's mouth draws thin, but she pushes it into a tight smile. “We may as well proceed. I believe you understand why I've called you here.”

Words burst from Gae's mouth. “I DON'T!?”

Rashimoto waves his hand in the air, giving no effort to move from his reclined position. “Yeah yeah we get it, killing bad, don't do it, big bluff on our captors part.”

Utsune visibly bristles at his casual attitude. He turns to Fukuyo. “Except it's not a bluff, and ignoring this is fucking callous and shitty.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Which is why I am not saying such a thing.”

Rashimoto uses his elbows to slightly push myself off the lounge. “Oh?”

Hisakawa flutters. “Fukuyo, you really can't mean-”

“Hold up,” Hiraku's voice is as bewildered as Atsuko feels. “Are you saying we could kill someone?”

“Not necessarily.”

Atsuko narrows her eyes. “Then what are you saying.” She straightens her posture, ignoring the slight sting such an action causes.

Fukuyo doesn't fault. “Easy. A vote.”

“A vote?” Hisakawa loops his fingers through his necklace, tugging at it uncomfortably.

“A voooote?” Ito echoes, mirroring Hisakawa's posture.

Fukuyo continues, undaunted by the incredulity of those around her. “There's fifteen of us. There's no chance of a tie.” She pauses. “It's the best solution.”

Utsune crosses his arms. “No, it's the solution you find most appealing.”

She considers him for a moment. “Yes, that too. I won't deny it's quite tantalising.”

“I think Fukuyo's suggestion has merit.” Sakuchi steps forward, the expression on her face unreadable.

Akiyama frowns, but makes no move to say anything.

Rashimoto drops his weight back against the lounge. “Yeah, we might as well.” He pats the scarce space next to his head, inviting anyone to sit next to him. Shiori's the closest, but he looks uncertain. Rashimoto rolls his eyes, pointing his middle finger at him, and then patting the seat harder.

Shiori continues to try to ignore him. “Not everyone's- they're not here, everyone. That is.” Rashimoto's making wilder and stranger hand gestures, and it's obviously taking all Shiori's concentration to talk.

Fukuyo glances at her wrist, a gesture formed from habit. Her mouth tightens. “Hisakawa, go retrieve the others. Including Yonamine, this won't work with an even number.”

“I don't know.” He falters. “I really don't like this.” There's a pain in his eyes, apologetic, as though the prospect of rejecting someone's request is the worst thing he's ever had to do, even if it goes against his own comforts.

“That is a shame. Go get the others.” Has Fukuyo ever compromised in her life, Atsuko isn't sure, but she doubts so. There's something about Fukuyo, an overbearing fortitude that crushes the will of others without so much as flinching.

“Ah… okay.” Christ, like a kicked puppy.

“I can go... If you like.” Wakatsuchi, having half-assed his previous attempt to gather everyone in the hall, generously offers.

Hisakawa laughs him off. “No, I'm fine. Just-” He grins, sheepish. “I don't know if I can get Yonamine out of his room.”

Fukuyo's smile widens, a viper. “I believe in you.” 

He stills, smile unsure. Atsuko thinks of a litany of things she would, of what Hisakawa could respond with. But he says nothing.

He leaves. Punctuated with an awkward laugh.

Rashimoto opens his mouth, but seemingly thinks better of it, instead dramatically rolling off the couch. Shiori lets out a snort of laughter, without thought. Rashimoto gives him a thumbs up, a large grin splattered across his. Shiori's shoulders slump. His eyes fill with guilt. Rashimoto's grin fades.

A terse silence settles over the room.

Fuck. Atsuko's attended funerals with a better atmosphere than this.

“You want us to vote on our lives?! What, you a fucking sociopath?!” Tsuzuki's voice echoes across the Main Hall, sending cracks through the fragile atmosphere. Hisakawa waves to them all quickly as he runs past the Hall towards the boy's rooms.

Fukuyo remains unperturbed. “I understand that you may see it as harsh, but as I have previously stated, it is the best course of action.”

“Are you sure,” Tsuzuki snorts, aggression of a bull but mind of a fox, “because I'm pretty fucking sure it's just you using this opportunity to jerk off your lawyer boner to a faux judicial vote.”

She gets no reply. Fukuyo's silence seems to only irritate her more.

“You know what? Fine, let's vote. No. I don't want to kill anyone, even for the sake of the hostages.”

Fukuyo frowns. “Ah, this was meant to be anonymous, I did not mean for us to-”

“Too fucking late. Let's get this over with, shall we?” Her eyes pass over the group for a moment. “Oi, Shiori, which is it.”

He starts, hands bunching themselves in the familiar fabric of his apron. “Uhm, I, uh, I-”

He's cut off as Hisakawa reenters the hall. Yonamine trails behind him, hunched against himself. Ito bounces over. She pats his back, the sudden force almost tipping him off balance. Tsuzuki ignores their entrance, eyes narrowing.

“Don't say you abstain.” She takes a step towards him.

“...Can you give, give me a minute?” He loosens his grip slightly.

“Fine.” She steps off, looking over the rest off the group, as if to say ‘go ahead'.

Akiyama steps forward, expression tenser than usual. “No.” They open their mouth, as if to say more, but curb themselves, casting their eyes to the floor. “No.”

“...Yes.”

“Wakatsuchi?!” Hisakawa startles.

“Sorry…” He smiles, but there's no joy behind it.

Fukuyo sighs. No one’s paying her mind, so she addresses the room. “I vote no.” 

“Bullshit.” Utsune scoffs at her. “There's absolutely no way you pushed this so hard just to vote no.”

“I don't need to explain my reasoning to you, Utsune.” On her tongue, his name is an insult.

“UHM! I’MSOSORRYBUT!” Gae clasps her hands over her mouth, her next words streaming like water through the drying riverbed of her fingers. “Ivoteyes.”

Utsune’s frown deepens further. “It's a no.” He crosses his arms, fingernails digging into the skin around his elbow.

“I vote no!” Hisakawa almost shouts, eyes wide in a panic unfamiliar to him. He waves his arms frantically, trying to make a point that no one else seems to understand. “We can't kill anyone!” His plea goes ignored, the others already thoroughly invested in this strange vote.

Rashimoto hums, finger tapping against the floor in an uneven rhythm. “Y'know what, sure, let's do it, why not?”

“Nice to see the price of your moral high ground is still dirt cheap.” Tsuzuki snarls at him.

He shoots her a grin. “Just like you, right?”

She sneers at him.

“Yeah,” Hiraku sighs, fiddling with his cartilage piercing. “This whole thing gets a no from me, it just wouldn't feel right. We can't vote on a life.”

“Oh! I voooote... no too!” Ito spins, turning to face Yonamine. “C'mon Yonana!” She stops, and starts laughing. “That one was dumb! Yonananananana!” She laughs harder, tears forming in the corners of her large eyes.

He looks at her, and it's there, barely, a melancholic smile. “...Me too. No.”

His words are the deciding vote, the majority has decided ‘no.’ But it's not about that anymore, not entirely.

Atsuko feels anxiety bubble within her stomach, bones lead-heavy. “Sorry,” she steels her nerves. It's fine, others have voted the same, she's not alone in this. “-but it's a yes.” She goes to look at the ground, but stops. No. She shakes it off, holding her head high.

Takahashi frowns, casting Atsuko a disappointed glance. “I love my orchestra, but no, it wouldn't be right.”

“Uhm, I-” Shiori speaks up, his fingers absentmindedly scratching at the skin beneath the collar of his shirt. “I'm really, really sorry, but I- it's a yes.” His eyes refuse to meet anyone else's.

All eyes turn to the last person who has yet to voice their opinion. Sakuchi's eyes remain stoic, her voice set like concrete. “I apologise, but I must say yes.”

Fukuyo nods. “That's nine against, six for.” She flashes five fingers, then four, on her right hand, whilst flashing five fingers, then one, on her left. “Seems we have our outcome, although I suspected as much.” She shakes her head, smiling much softer than her usual.

Utsune rolls his eyes. “Great, we achieved nothing. Solid waste of time that was.”

“Ah, on the contrary, it told me exactly what I needed to know.” Atsuko wishes she would stop smiling. “Thank you all for humouring me.” Yeah, that's all this was, a wishy-washy play pretend vote to appease Fukuyo's self-satisfaction. “Now, I suggest you send your thoughts and goodbyes to your loved one, although, it's rather pointless now.”

“Do you think this is a fucking joke?” She's not sure who spits the words, coated in vitriolic acid.

Fukuyo turns to her.

Oh.

That was her, wasn't it.

“Am I laughing? This hurts me as much as it does you, please do not dismiss my humanity Atsuko.”

Atsuko feels her teeth grit- She's suddenly aware of herself. The way her nails connect to her fingers. Her hair in her scalp. She can't stop herself.

“Doesn't seem like there's anything to dismiss.”

Fukuyo's smile tightens at the corners. “If you wish to still take a life, I will not stop you. I don't have that power over your autonomy. Unless you let me, of course, so that you may blame someone else for the inaction on your part.”

Hisakawa steps forwards, arms held up in what should be a placating gesture. “I'm sure that's not what she means.”

“I'm sure.” Her smile is pure condescension, a mother to a child who wants to be the impossible. It pisses her off. Superiority; arrogance; snide and bitter and willing to let her brothers die when they deserve life more than anyone here breathing in this moment.

“Cut the fucking attitude before I do it for you.”

“Oi Motome.”

Fukuyo won't give her a fight.

“What.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

But Tsuzuki will.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ this is stupid.” Utsune sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, like he's attempting to stem off a migraine. “Children in an argument, that's what you are.”

“Guys please, let's not fight okay?” Hisakawa tries once more to placate them.

“You really think that that milquetoast attempt at reconciliation will achieve anything.” Utsune mutters, but it's clearly heard.

“Hey man,” Hiraku steps forward slightly, a small displeased frown making its way upon his face. “At least he's trying.”

“Oh? He's trying? I'm so sorry, I didn't realise. What, you want me to give him a medal? Gold star Hisakawa, you really “did your best”, grade A hero.” He grits through his teeth.

“I-” Hisakawa cuts himself off as his voice wavers.

“Stop.” Akiyama places a hand on Utsune's shoulder, a stern look in their eyes.

Tsuzuki pays them no mind. “You get on my fucking case about my attitude? Fucking unbelievable, you seriously angry about the fact no one wants to kill anyone, what- things don't go your way and you throw a fit, seriously childish.”

“Don't act like I don't have a reason to be angry- if it comes to down to it, I'll choose them any time!” And she means it. These people, strangers, have nothing she desires to protect; she has no obligation to their safety.

“Why don't you put your money where your mouth is, come on, I'm fucking waiting!”

“You know what- fuck it! You want a fight I'll give you a fight, you motherfucker!”

“Holy shit- this is awesome!” Rashimoto laughs. “Fight! Fucking go for it!”

“Go! Goooo! Do it! Come oooon!” Ito chants, eyes aflame with interest.

“You’ll give me a fight? You’ve been nothing but complacent in this situation! Don’t lie to me, you’re a damn coward!”

“Takes one to know one, you piece of shit!”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT” Gae covers her face with her hands, looking one wrong breath away from hyperventilating. “DON'TDOANYTHINGPLEASE!”

“Hiraku…” Wakatsuchi places a hand on the boy's shoulder.

“Huh?” Wakatsuchi gives him a long look. Hiraku grimaces. “What do you want me to do?”

“I believe they wish for you to diffuse the situation.” Sakuchi says, her tone giving nothing away of her feelings.

“Uh, okay-” Hiraku visibly deflates. “Hey, guys, just listen for a seco-”

“FUCK EACH OTHER UP! C'MON, FIGHT TO THE DEATH!” Rashimoto throws him a shit-eating grin, slightly too sharp at the edges.

Unconsciously or not, the pair is spurred further by the increasingly strange atmosphere developing around them. “You're all bark and no fucking bite! Toothless! Fuck you!” She’s in Atsuko's face, so much so that if Atsuko were to care in that moment, she'd be able to read the reality in Tsuzuki's eyes.

But Atsuko's too far from such a thing.

“I bet you've never thrown a punch in your life you prissy bitch!” She grabs Tsuzuki's shoulders, shoving her back. Tsuzuki stumbles, but regains her balance, not allowing herself to fall.

“Hell Yeah! Bash her brains in! Splatter ‘em against the floor Motome!” Rashimoto looks elated.

“Woooo!” Excitement bursts from Ito’s lips.

A whimper breaks through the growing merriment. Yonamine is trembling, face hidden as he digs the palms of his hands against his eyes.

Rashimoto’s smile drops. “Oh, shit.” Whether he realises it or not, his words are the catalyst of the other boy’s impending breakdown.

With eyes on him, it seems the boy can no longer it in, silent sobs escaping through the movement of his shoulders. He crouches, as if being lower to the ground will make him less noticeable. It doesn't.

“Yonamine, c'mon, ya don't have to be here, okay?” Hisakawa crouches next to him, hand hovering above the space between the boys shoulder blades. “Let's go take a bath or something, okay? If you want to. Or we can go to your room and you can be alone for a little while? Let's go somewhere quiet, okay?”

The boy doesn't respond. Hisakawa's mouth thins, he seems to be debating against himself, eyes glancing across the room. He nods to himself.

“Guys, I'm gonna take Yonamine back to his room, yeah? Just- I'm sure you'll be able to resolve this- peacefully! Haha, okay Yonamine, it's alright.”

It's only slight, hard to decipher through his trembling, but it’s there, a slight inclination of his head. Hisakawa smiles, moving to help him up.

“Ah, is it alright if I touch you?”

Yonamine nods again.

Hisakawa’s smile splits into a beam, sun after the rain, warmth slowly seeping through the previous apprehension. He gently takes the other boy’s arm, settling him on his feet like one would a small child. He positions himself as to partially shield Yonamine from the rest of the group, but there is no ill-will behind it, it’s genuine compassion. A want to protect another from discomfort.

As he leads Yonamine away, he looks over his shoulder. _“Please don’t fight.”_ He mouths, and is gone around the corner.

It’s silent. Heavy. Tsuzuki’s mouth is set in a deep scowl, her eyes dark, the sky in an eclipse.

“Nothing to say?” Atsuko can’t leave it. Defeat is not in the composition of her blood.

Tsuzuki scowls, eyes remaining fixed on the spot where Yonamine used to be. “Whatever.” She turns heel, towards the direction of girls’ rooms, controlled pace clicking _anger anger anger_ across the concrete floor.

There’s a rumbling white noise that washes up around Atsuko, the sound of tiny little voices murmuring their disagreements, their eyes quietly judging her. She grits her teeth. Judgement, as if they really did anything to prevent the situation, didn’t just sit and gawp, gaping mouths catching flies, inhaling the scene like air after a drowning. She wants to snap out at them, they need to mind their own damn business. But she can’t think like that- goddamn it what the fuck was she doing? How’d it even get to this point. Horror after horror, terrible truth after terrible truth, and here she is, doing exactly what she’d been condemning silently in the nights.

She looks at her trembling fists. Right, this is her, isn’t it? Has always been her. Shit. _Shit._

__

“Shit.”

“Motome, that was…” Takahashi’s voice is unusually subdued, her eyes swimming in something indescribable.

She can’t meet her eyes. “...yeah I get it okay? I get it.”

She clasps her eyes shut.  

When she opens them again, the Hall is empty, devoid of all but one.

“Motome, are you alright? I've been calling your name for a while now.”

“You're still here Takahashi.”

“Indeed.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Does that sort of thing happen often?”

“...yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, didn't mean to settle you with, ah, all this. It's not really, fun.”

“You're right.”

She didn't know what she was expecting, but fuck, it still hurts to hear.

“But, how do I say this? A softer melody has its appeals, as do the harsh ones, but that doesn't discredit or lessen anything from the other.”

“What the fuck are you talking about.”

Takahashi thinks for a moment. She snaps her fingers, in a sort of ‘eureka’ moment.

“Whether it be a weak blend, or a strong one, it's all about one’s tastes, yes?”

“Oh. I think I get it.”

“Great!”

\---

 

 

Itsuki follows shortly after Hisakawa leaves with Yonamine by his side. There's no need for him to stay, after all, to stare and further humiliate Motome and Tsuzuki. Regret will surely be eating at them, though that thought is sad. Well, sad as he can feel. It's a waste for him to fret about the others right now.

Ah, to say such a thing is a blatant lie.

He's standing in front of Yonamine's door, but has yet to knock. Would it be too intrusive? A rude interruption of a budding intimate moment.

He knocks, an unidentifiable feeling guiding his hand.

Hisakawa opens the door, a tired smile on his face. “Wakatsuchi! If you're looking for Yonamine, poor guy cried himself to sleep on the walk here.”

“Ah… is that good… or bad?”

“I, can't say.” Hisakawa grimaces.

“...I'd like to… apologise… for earlier.”

“For what?” Hisakawa tilts his head to the side, like a confused puppy. It's unbearably endearing.

“Utsune… I… didn't say anything.”

“Oh man, you were seriously worried about that? It's fine, that stuff can't get through my thick skull, I've been told, in one ear, out the other. So seriously, you don't have to apologise for anything.”

“You… Say that… no, never mind.”

“But hey, don't you think it's weird?”

“What is?”

“That that voice, static thingy, didn't say anything the whole time?”

“...you’re right.” Itsuki for a moment, is taken aback, although it isn't allowed to show on his face. He hadn't noticed. That voice’s presence, heavy and demanding, absent from a moment of chaos it would seemingly so eagerly devour.

“Y'know,” Hisakawa steps out into the hallway, gently shutting the door behind him. “This whole time, I've been thinking, about how scared I am, about how horrible this place is- but…it's going to get worse, isn't it? It, has gotten worse. And I guess I'm just, well, I'm at a loss. Earlier, I couldn't even stop that fight, I just stood there, like an idiot. Utsune is right, y'know. I'm not doing a very good job living up to my talent.” He stops, sheepish. “Sorry, you probably don't care. I don't know why I told you that.”

Itsuki finds himself shaking his head. “What you're doing now… I think it's enough. It's not good… to leave a sapling in water, or it will drown. Humans are the same… metaphorically.”

“And literally.” Hisakawa shoots him a smile, although it's obvious he doesn't quite understand.

Itsuki smiles back. It's alright, such a thing takes time to blossom.

 

\---

 

She sits down on the bed, wonders if everything feels alright now. She can't tell. It's all muted, muddy and yet translucent. 

Itching. There’s itching beneath her skin.

She's tall, she's knows that, and she's had her fair share of fights. It wouldn't be hard. Ito's small, Yonamine's vulnerable, Shiori's neck is thin, Utsune looks like he could topple from a summer breeze. She shakes her head. No, ignore it. She wishes she could be as carefree as Takahashi. She places the photo on the floor, next to the coffee maker. The smiling faces of her brothers burn the backs of her eyelids as she drifts into a dark sleeplessness. Tomorrow, everything won't be okay. But for a little while, she doesn’t have to deal with it.

 

.

.

.

 

She can't sleep. It's been a while, or maybe no time at all. A low thrum of discomfort taps along her spine whenever she tries to get comfortable. She's tried to look at her back, tries to run her fingers along it. But she can't. Her hands tremble, lock stiff like a corpse. Nausea makes her eyes water. Fear. She can't let anyone else see. 

She feels the need for caffeine thrumming inside her veins. The kitchen. Hopefully it's quiet.

She's right, for most part. She encounters Akiyama leaving, holding two bowls of plain rice. She holds the door for them, to which they acknowledge with a nod.

Akiyama pauses for a moment. “Have you thought about it.”

She's too tired to recall anything. “About what.”

“Of course you haven't.” Their fingers tense, turning pale against the pressure of the thin porcelain. “Whatever.” They stare at the bowls, mouth in a thin line. “Hey, can you do me a favour.”

Atsuko raises an eyebrow.

“Of course not.” Akiyama scowls, “I'll ask Hisakawa.”

“No.” Motome quickly shakes her head. “Tell me.”

Akiyama considers her, mouth flat and unamused. They search her eyes, focus intense, as they both stand in silence. Akiyama sighs. “If someone kills me, or I kill someone, make sure Utsune eats.”

Atsuko opens her mouth, unsure what to respond.  “The fuck kind of request is that.”

Akiyama rolls their eyes. “A simple one. Put your aggression to good use.” They hook their foot around the edge of the door, setting it in motion to close. “Goodnight Motome.”

The door shuts behind them, leaving Atsuko to ruminate in their request.

She really needs a coffee.

She can only find the instant mix kind, the kinda gross flavoured stuff, so all she has to do is wait for the water to boil.

“Oh, Motome.”

A semi-surprised voice engages her. Atsuko looks up. And then up some more. Fuck, Sakuchi is tall. Sakuchi seems to take her silence as an invitation, joining her. She leans against the bench, more casual than Atsuko thought she could achieve, and pulls down her medical mask. It’s a nicer greeting than she would think, considering what had happened only a few hours prior, yet Sakuchi regards her like a long-lost friend.

“Couldn't sleep.” A wistful smile graces her lips.

She's unsure if Sakuchi is asking a question, or stating a fact. She nods her head. “Something like that. All this is just-”

“A waking nightmare.”

“Yeah. A horrible fucking dream.”

Sakuchi throws her head back, a sharp laugh escaping her, matching the kettle’s pitch. The skin on her neck looks like silk. Atsuko is starstruck.

“Oh, how I wish Motome. How I wish.” She stays silent for a moment, eyes closed off to the distance. The kettle snaps off, the white noise erased. “I believe your water is ready.”

“Nah, it can't be boiling when you put it in the powder, makes it even more gross.”

“Don't I know it.”

Oh? “Thought you weren’t a coffee drinker.”

She shakes her head. “I'm not. I have-” she stops, mouth still posed to speak. She pushes herself from the bench, back straightening to perfect posture. “Motome.”

“Yeah?”

Sakuchi smiles at her.

“Don't worry about your brothers.”

It's like she knows exactly where to aim, it's difficult to swallow. Atsuko can't bring herself to nod. Sakuchi adjusts her medical mask.

“No, never mind, indifference is a hard pill to swallow. Worry, Motome. To your heart's content.”

“Don't tell me what to do.”

Sakuchi blinks, and then laughs- no- her shoulders hitch. She's crying. “Oh god, what am I going to do.”

Atsuko has no response. She lets Sakuchi weep, the sound of a broken heart enough to fill the silence tenfold.

“Oh, a secret rendezvous?”

The pair turn to the voice.

“Takahashi.” Sakuchi scrubs at the skin around her eyes, adjusting her mask a little higher.

“I hope you don't mind.” Takahashi laughs, coming to join the pair.

Atsuko sighs. “Actually, I should be getting back.”

“Oh.” Takahashi frowns.

“Sorry.”

“No, no! Don't be. I have Sakuchi to keep me company, don't I?”

“Yes, I can't find it in myself to sleep.”

“See! The beautiful and the sleep deprived! Good night Motome.”

“Yeah, night.”

It's only when she's back in her room did she realise she forgot her coffee. She debates for a moment. Decides against it. She's already said ‘good night' after all.

She wonders what the pair are talking about. Where her brothers, her parents, are. About the regulars who frequent her dad's cafe. Wonders about the strange request from Akiyama. She wonders a long, long time.

She wanders into sleep.

\---

 

_“Hey, Atsu.”_  

_“Hm?”_

_“You’re strong, yeah?”_

_“Uh, I guess.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“Okay, what’s up.”_

_“I’m… not. Strong, I mean. But one day, I’ll need to be right? When you’re not around. ‘Cause then I’ll be the oldest.”_

_“Damn, okay- Uhm, look, dad’s here, and so is mum, sometimes, and you’re too young for thinking this shi-stuff, so just, don’t worry your dumb brain okay?”_

_“I’m not dumb!”_

_“Uh, yuh-huh, you’re super dumb, a complete neanderthal.”_

_“Nean-what?”_

_“See, so stupid.”_

_“I am not! Hey, I’m not stupid, am I?!”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“You’re supposed to be on my side!”_

 

\---

 

There's someone knocking on her door, waking her. It irritates her immediately, she'd been having a decent dream.

“Motome!” It's Shiori, slightly out of breath, who greets her at the door.

Atsuko stares down at him. “Yeah?”

“Uhm, I'm going to, to try and, uh,” he waves his hands anxiously, “bake something. To make, make people feel, uh, feel better. I think, I think I'm the first, uh, first person to wake.” He gives her what she thinks is an attempt at a proud smile.

“Okay?”

“And, uh, ‘m sorry, could you please, could you please help me carry the, the extra flour from storage?”

She rests her head against the door frame, closing her eyes. “Can't Hiraku help you?”

He deflates at her tone, hands wringing the fabric of his apron. “ ‘m sorry. I don't want to, want to bother him right now.”

So he'll bother her? Someone on the opposite side of the building. She mentally runs through the list of guys who Shiori could have asked instead of her. She voices as much to him. He flounders for a moment, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “If I ask another guy, Hiraku will get upset.”

She isn't sure how to respond to that. “Ah. Sure, I'll help.” She closes the door behind her.

“Thank you. ‘m sorry.”

“It's fine. What are you making?”

“Uhm, probably just, just cookies, sugar ones.”

“Cool.” A sudden strike of realisation hits her. “Wait, don't you have to wake everyone else up- I mean, I don't know what'll happen if you don't but-”

Shiori considers her words for a moment. “Well…” A sliver of a smile appears on Shiori's lips. “It doesn't say ‘when’ I have to wake them.” He catches Atsuko's eye, smile quickly dissipating. “Uhm, I, uh, I think, I think it, it should be alright?”

“You little bastard.”

“Sorry.”

There's an awkward silence as they walk down the corridor. She doesn't know how to convey that she was only joking around. The silence continues, their footsteps crisp through the air. Atsuko can't help herself.

“Shiori, I didn’t think you’d be comfortable talking to me, after, yesterday.”

Atsuko's enters the storage room. He doesn’t say anything. She glances at his face, but his expression is one of contemplation, not fear, or even apprehension.

“Uhm, Motome.”

She nods.

“You voted yes, to uh, to killing someone.”

Cold seeps rapid through her. She suddenly feels the need to explain herself, to convince him she’s not a monster. “It's not, that I don't care about the people here, it's just. I dunno. Can't really explain it, man.”

“The people here don't matter as much as those you love.” His voice is soft, but fiercely strong. He’s not speaking platitudes, his words are raw, what he truly believes. An unfaltering conviction. It’s so unlike him Atsuko needs a moment to gather her thoughts.

“Yeah. I guess that's it.” She grimaces. “Ah shit, I sound like a fucking cockhead.”

He shakes his head. “I think, uhm, that it's not something to feel guilty about.” His lips lift slightly.  “It's like, uh, like one for the many.”

“Yeah.”

Shiori bites his lip, confidence wavering noticeably. He points to the sack of flour, stuck firmly between two large boxes. She gets to work trying to unwedge the bag, but it shows no sign of giving.

“Would you, would you uhm. Kill yourself for them?” It’s barely a whisper.

Atsuko’s head snaps in his direction, halting all efforts. “Fucking Christ dude.”

“‘m sorry.” He scratches slightly at his neck.

“That's a- a fucking hard question. I've beaten a few people to shit for them, but taking my own life? Fuck me, I can't tell you an honest ‘yes.’” She doesn’t know why she’s telling him this. Maybe it’s the genuine curiosity, the off-brand innocence that permeates the question.

“I think that I would. It'd be, honourable, I think.” He doesn’t look her in the eyes, but he gives the floor a wavering smile.

“Oi.” Atsuko frowns, indigestible apprehension starting to eat at her gut. “Don't try a fucking thing. There's a difference between sacrificial and suicidal.”

Shiori looks as though he’s about to disagree, a small frown tugging at his lips.

She goes to cut him off, uproot any more conversation like this before it becomes irreversible. But she doesn’t get the chance.

A frantic scream cuts down the corridor.

“What the fuck?” She's already moving, all previous thoughts erased by a flight response.

“Was that from the bathroom?” She can hear Shiori follow, his shaky voice retaining its previous solidity.

From the corner of her eye, she can see the commotion has drawn the attention of whoever was in the main hall.

Her feet slip against the tiled floor of the laundry room, and she ends up all but throwing herself against the door to the bathroom.

\---

 

 

 

 

And there, lying on the cold, unforgiving bathroom floor, is Sakuchi Mikei, the Ultimate Dentist.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip Sakuchi, she will not be forgotten. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience! Investigation will be next chapter, so please stay tuned!
> 
> Thanks again to my co-author!
> 
> Also I'm thinking of setting up a discord server but idk how many people would be interested lol


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